


Insurrection

by ScarletRaven1001



Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Vegebul - Fandom
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Dragon Ball AU, Drama, F/M, Forbidden Love, Intrigue, Lemon, Marriage of Convenience, Politics, Romance, Royalty, Smut, Vegebul AU, Voyeurism, War, dragon ball smut, interplanetary war, multi-chapter, tpthvegebulsmutfest, vegebul smut is the best smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-08-02 02:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 54,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16296242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletRaven1001/pseuds/ScarletRaven1001
Summary: Trapped in a marriage of convenience, Princess Bulma seeks the thrill of adventure, the exhilaration of love and desire. Just as she had begun to resign herself to a lifeless future, she crosses paths with the enigmatic Prince Vegeta, and she is immediately enthralled. She lets him take her through a journey of sin and pleasure, but when propriety and obligation surge, will she let go of him to take the side of righteousness, or keep holding on to the only true spark of life she had ever experienced?A Vegebul AU of forbidden romance, amidst a galaxy ravaged by war and intrigue.





	1. Enthralled

**Author's Note:**

> This story will be a bit dark, and is a divergence from my usual Smutfest entries. I do hope you enjoy it, and as always, your feedback will be greatly appreciated!
> 
> Please hop in with TPTH on [Discord](https://discordapp.com/invite/6vbHx3k) and [Reddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/tpth)!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: Money shot

Harvest season was upon the land of Capsura, and a glance out of one of the large windows of the royal palace showed fields upon fields of rich, vibrant green lands.

Princess Bulma smiled, brushing back her long blue hair as she thought about how it was bound to be a bountiful season, and how their subjects would surely be reaping the benefits when the nearby planets arrived for the quarterly trade.

Their planet was one of the four domains of the Sadala constellation.

Capsura, with its temperate rains and bountiful farms;

Arlia, with its freezing cold climate and beautiful fur and leather fabrics;

Namek, the land of lumber, concrete and phenomenal structural materials, and lastly;

Vegeta-sei… home of the mighty Saiyan warriors. It was the prosperous desert land of oil and precious gems and metals.

Vegeta-sei, a planet under siege, as the past two generations had been waging a bitter war against the galactic conqueror, Frieza.

Due to their chaotic existence, the living Saiyans were infamous for their savage natures, and Bulma – who was naturally-curious and would love nothing more than to speak to one – was miffed by the fact that she had never before met a single Saiyan.

At least, not a full Saiyan.

It was no secret to her, nor to anyone else in Capsura, that her husband of two years was half-Saiyan.

His father, once sent to Capsura as an emissary, had gotten stranded on their planet as the wars on Vegeta-sei became more and more intense. Due to his Saiyan strength, King Trunks – Bulma’s father – had made him a general of the Capsuran forces.

The general had then met and fallen in love with a palace cook, and they had brought a child into the world before he was recalled to the Saiyan forces, and had unfortunately never returned.

General Bardock left behind his wife, Gine, and their son, Goku.

Goku, whose given Saiyan name was Kakarot, possessed strength that was unparalleled in all of Capsura, and he was thus chosen by the King to be married to his only daughter.

It was a loveless marriage, a union of convenience, and Bulma had been trying to hide her despair at how her life had turned out.

She knew that she had more to offer than just being a lady clinging onto the arm of her husband.

She was to be Queen one day, and she loathed that she had never been allowed to have a say in her own life before she was tossed into this sham.

She had grown up with Goku. He was a beloved friend.

However, he was not who she would have chosen to marry.

Yet, she digressed.

She still had things to look forward to, and one of those was the upcoming trade.

She had always loved the trade, since she was able to procure clothing, and metal tools that she used in her secret laboratory hidden in a room in one of the castle turrets.

She only wished that Vegeta-sei was still part of the trade, as her mother, Queen Panchy, had often regaled her with stories of the most beautiful gems and shiny golden jewelry that were once brought to them by the Saiyans.

The very few jewelry still available in Capsura were highly-valued but old, and Bulma so wished to see a brand new shiny ring, or one of the crystal beads that her mother knew of but had not seen in at least forty years.

Bulma was pulled out of her idle thoughts when she heard footsteps approaching her from down the hall, and she lifted her gaze to find the tall, thick form of Goku, his black hair as unruly as ever, striding purposefully towards her with a worried look in his dark eyes.

“Goku?” she called. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he answered, even as he reached forward to grasp her arms. “Well, at least, I hope so.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, following after him as he led her away from the windows and into the center of the throne room.

He looked around, a concerned knot on his forehead. “We have just received word that a single-passenger space pod has requested entry into our atmosphere.”

Bulma gasped. “Are you serious? Did they permit entry?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Because the pod is manned by a single emissary from Vegeta-sei. I think… I think I know who it is.”

She looked questioningly at him. “How? Who is it?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he said, “But, do you remember the campaign eight years ago when I volunteered to go out into the planetary borders to keep Capsura from being infiltrated? I was there for four years, and I met several Saiyans then. I actually became friends with a few. If I’m right, then this person coming in might be bringing some very important news.”

He looked away, thoughtful, before muttering, “I just hope I’m right and it’s him, the access code used was his, I’m sure.”

“Well, should we go and meet him, then?” Bulma asked.

Goku looked up at her, surprised. “Huh? You wanna come?”

“Of course!” Bulma exclaimed.

She could finally meet a full Saiyan! This was a potentially exciting event, and she had been so dreadfully bored recently that she would throw a _fit_ if she wasn’t allowed to come along!

“Goku, let me meet this Saiyan, please? I’m sure that the forces would be there anyway, so it isn’t gonna be dangerous,” she begged, clasping her hands together before her breasts, her eyes wide and pleading.

“I dunno…”

“Come _on,_ ” she whined. “You know I have _never_ met a Saiyan before, and I really wanna see how he looks!”

“Bulma,” Goku deadpanned. “ _I’m_ a Saiyan. He’s gonna look like _me_.”

“You’re half!” she argued. “I’ve heard that full Saiyans are really tall, have sharper features, and they have wiry hair and ridiculously huge, thick arms and legs, and hands that are bigger than my torso.”

He threw his head back as a sharp bark of laughter left him. “Well. Some of them, yeah.”

“Please, please, please let me come along!” she asked again. “I never ask you to bring me to military functions. Just this once!”

He sighed. “Alright. But if this is who I suspect it’s gonna be, let’s just say that you should keep your expectations a bit on the _short_ side.”

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma was practically vibrating in excitement as Goku led her into the landing strip, awaiting the arrival of the emissary.

The ship had slowed as it entered the atmosphere, and now, Bulma, along with the King, Queen, Goku, and a row of royal guards, stood heavily anticipating the ship.

Bulma gasped as soon as she saw the incoming pod.

It was round and white, with a single circular window. As it came nearer, she realized that the viewing portal was in the middle of the single door, and by the size of the pod, it was clear that it could have only fit one fully-grown person.

The winds rushed around them as the ship descended, and Bulma held on to the skirts of her long, green dress, shielding her eyes from the sun as she tried to take in everything about their alien visitor.

When the ship finally landed, it did so with a soft whirr as the engines cut off, and Bulma’s breaths stuttered in anticipation as the small door slowly opened with a low hiss.

The first thing she saw was the white, gold-tipped boots, as they gracefully stepped out of the ship.

Legs clad in thick, blue, elastic fabric followed, and Bulma watched as hands wearing white leather gloves curled around the edges of the door frame, helping the pilot heft himself out.

On his torso, the man wore a strange armor made of a pliable white material with heavy golden shoulder pads. Though not as large and tall as she imagined, he was clearly fit, trim, even, but the defined muscles on his blue-clad extremities spoke of undeniable power.

A red cape was attached by golden notches at his shoulders, and on the left side of his chest plate, was a small red sign that Bulma immediately recognized as the symbol of the Royal House of Vegeta-sei.

 _“A royal?”_ she thought, before she finally lifted her gaze to his face.

She gasped slightly, her breaths almost stopping altogether.

He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man that Bulma had ever laid eyes on. 

The Saiyan had black hair with deep red undertones, spiked neatly above his head like tempered flames that ended in a severe widow’s peak, bordering the darkest eyes that she had ever seen. He had flawlessly refined features, with a tall, thin nose, perfectly-shaped lips and high cheekbones framed by a painfully sharp jawline, and smooth, lightly tanned skin.

He was looking straight ahead at her father, and he walked towards King Trunks with self-assured, almost arrogant steps, before dropping down on one knee in supplication.

“Your Majesty, King Trunks,” he greeted, and his voice was a low, throaty melody that dripped regality, insinuating authority even as he humbled himself before the elder monarch.

“Rise, young man, and speak your name,” the King responded.

He rose as instructed, before he placed his right fist upon his left breast, slightly below the red insignia. “I am Prince Vegeta, fourth of my name, Crown Prince of Vegeta-sei. I have come to seek your aide as we are on the last leg of our resistance, and we trust that you will be generous once again, as you had been with the third insurrection eight years ago.”

“Prince Vegeta,” King Trunks said. “I have heard much about your power, mostly from our young Duke Goku. I believe you know him as Kakarot.”

Prince Vegeta looked to his right, where Goku stood with Bulma, and the prince smirked as he flew towards Goku, hands straight down his sides.

He stood but a few feet before her, and Bulma felt herself palpitate as she gazed at him up close.

She was distracted from her staring by Goku’s excited voice.

“Vegeta!” he exclaimed with a wide grin, moving forward with arms outstretched, and the two men shared a brotherly hug, thumping their closed fists against each other’s backs.

“Kakarot, it has been a while,” Vegeta greeted with a smirk before he pulled back, and both men held onto each other’s shoulders at arm’s length.

“Yes, it has! I’m glad to see you again!” Goku said, before they stepped away from each other.

“Likewise,” the prince responded, glancing in Bulma’s direction.

Their eyes met…

She thought she saw his narrow eyes widen slightly as he looked at her, and she was sure that her heart missed a beat as she finally gazed into those obsidian eyes.

A small eternity seemed to pass as Bulma desperately tried to speak, tried to introduce herself as was expected of polite company, but her breath had lodged painfully in her throat as she lost herself in the unfathomable depths of his eyes.

This man… this man was trouble.

She was unable to move, powerless to look away. It was as if she had been bewitched.

Goku’s words broke the spell.

“Vegeta, this is my wife, Princess Bulma,” he introduced.

“Your wife, you say?” the Saiyan asked, without taking his eyes off her.

“Yes, and Bulma, this is Prince Vegeta, the most powerful warrior I have ever met and fought beside,” Goku said, making Bulma glance at him before she looked back at the prince.

“I… I am pleased to meet you, Prince Vegeta,” she said softly, stuttering over her words.

At this, Vegeta grinned, before he reached down, taking her hand in both of his.

Slowly, he pulled her hand up, until his lips were mere millimeters away, and his soft breaths on the back of her hand brought indescribable tingles up and down her spine. 

Looking straight into her eyes, he touched his lips to her hand, and Bulma could not deny the shivers that flooded her body as he spoke against her skin.

“The pleasure,” he murmured, “is truly _all_ mine, Princess.”

Bulma felt heat flood her cheeks.

He was _definitely_ going to be a problem.

8-8-8-8-8

It had been a week since Prince Vegeta had arrived on Capsura, and sure enough, King Trunks had gone above and beyond to lend as much assistance as he possibly could.

Their forces were deep in preparation, and Bulma was feeling nervous as she saw Goku in the midst of it all, helping their warriors reach optimum strength as they trained hard for more than half of each day.

However, there was something that Bulma was deeply concerned about…

The war they were about to wage was not going to be on the outskirts of the planets, like they had once done during the third insurrection.

No, the battle was to take place within Vegeta-sei, and though Bulma had never been there before, she knew from her studies that the red planet was a  heavily-magnetized rock.

As far as she knew, the planet had ten times Capsura’s gravity, and if their men alighted there without having any training on how to navigate the increased gravity, then their preparations will all be for naught.

She had tried to reason with her father, but Trunks had simply told her not to worry, as Goku was already there to take care of the men.

She still wasn’t convinced. And Bulma had never been the type to just give up when told “no”.

So, when the quarter trade had come up three days ago, she had used up her resources to buy metals and spare parts to work on a secret project.

The men were supposed to leave within five weeks, and though she was running short on time, Bulma knew that if she worked hard, she would be able to finish her project.

While her husband trained the troops with the help of Prince Vegeta, she stole away into her laboratory.

A few months ago, she had been gazing out the window as she so often did when she saw a small bird flitting around between the boughs of some trees. She had then gotten it in her mind that she wanted to fly, and had quickly started work on a machine that could help her float without wings.

She started with a single pair of cuffs, and she was already halfway through finishing them when she had gotten sidetracked.

Bulma realized that she already had the technology on how to fight gravity… if she tweaked it some more, then she could potentially come up with a way to induce more gravity on the cuff wearer, so as to mimic the increased gravity on Vegeta-sei.

It was brilliant!

But now, her problem was on how to test its effectivity.

She could not wear the bracelets herself. She had never been a fighter, and she could seriously injure herself if she were to even contemplate doing it.

The only ones she knew who could possibly withstand the increased gravity were Goku and Prince Vegeta, and she was not about to ask her husband, since he shared her father’s belief that Bulma should stay out of the battle preparations.

That left Prince Vegeta…

A delicious shiver went through Bulma as she thought of the prince.

Since his arrival, Bulma had watched him and Goku on the training grounds more than once.

She had always tried to keep her eyes on her husband, as she was supposed to, but it was hard, when each of the Saiyan prince’s actions brought her an indescribable thrill.

He was lethal grace, his movements smoother than water, and his presence exuded regal authority that made all of her planet’s warriors stand at rapt attention, ready for his next command.

He was exhilarating.

It didn’t help that once, when he had caught her looking his way, he had turned to her and given her a salacious _wink_.

Her body burned at the naughty look in his eyes, and since then, she had made it a point to try to avoid him. However, it seemed that the universe was against her attempts at avoidance as she kept running into him, regardless.

She needed to stay away from him, because if the first time she had seen him was any indication, then Bulma understood exactly what it was that she felt for the alien monarch.

She was attracted to him.

Beyond any attraction she had ever felt towards anyone, she knew that she was curious about what the prince would feel like in her arms, on her lips…

If his sinuous gait was an indication of how lithe he would be in her bed…

Bulma shook her head, angry at herself for even entertaining the thought.

Not only was she a princess, but she was a married woman!

It was all sorts of improper to even begin to entertain thoughts of another man.

It was an unforgivable sin!

She knew that if she did not take steps to keep herself away from him, the temptation of his body, of his brooding dark eyes, and the unconventional brilliance of his words, would someday be too much for her to resist.

Her thoughts wandered back to their interaction from the previous day, when without asking the servants, she had gone into the kitchens herself to fetch a drink.

8-8-8-8-8

_She stopped dead in her tracks as she spotted a very familiar shock of dark hair, turned away from her as she entered the kitchen._

_She could see only his head as he was seated at the preparation table, concealed by a low storage cabinet. He was quickly going through enough food for two small families, and she watched, fascinated, as he systematically reached for food and soundlessly shoveled the morsels into his mouth._

_She had never seen him eat this way._

_Usually, at the dinner table with her father and husband, he ate at a more normal pace, though she did realize that he seemed to eat almost twice as much as Goku, who was already known for his incredible appetite._

_It was made exceedingly clear to her then, that Goku’s appetite was not an anomaly, but was a part of his Saiyan heritage._

_She had just begun to turn away when he stilled, before quickly turning around, and she stood unmoving as his eyes landed on her._

_He fixed her with his usual penetrating glare, one second before his gaze softened marginally as he realized who she was._

_“Princess Bulma,” he greeted, getting up._

_As he stood, Bulma immediately averted her eyes, face in flames…_

_He had been shirtless. She didn’t realize it earlier, and now that she did, it took her needy eyes but a moment to quickly take in and remember every dip and curve of his body._

_He was, as she suspected, absolute perfection._

_Exquisitely built, he had a thick chest and firmly muscled arms. His waist was narrow, his abdomen obscenely defined, and Bulma almost shed a tear at how incredibly she suddenly_ needed _to feel his skin beneath her palms._

_“Have you come in for a snack? Take a seat, I still have some more,” he said, almost cheerfully._

_She was surprised._

_“You want to give me some of your food? Are you sure, your highness?” she asked, unable to help the cheeky grin from rising on her lips._

_He smirked. “You should be honored. I rarely share my rations. It is rarer still, for me to share a meal that I have personally prepared.”_

_It was then that Bulma noticed the few pots and pans that had been freshly washed, and the remaining one that held what looked like a large rack of cooked meat._

_“Did you cook your own meal?” she asked in surprise as he scooped some pulled meat out onto a nearby plate and laid it before her._

_He scoffed. “Of course. I may be the heir to my planet, but I have not lived a pampered life. I know very well how to take care of my own needs.”_

_Bulma grinned, picking up a fork. Proper manners dictated that she at least try the food he had presented her._

_She was more than a little surprised when, as she tasted the food, she discovered that it was rather well-cooked._

_“Well?” a low voice asked beside her, and she looked up to see Vegeta examining her, as if waiting for her reaction._

_“This… this is rather good,” she admitted, taking another forkful as he smirked and went back to eating._

_They sat in surprisingly comfortable silence, and it wasn’t long before Bulma realized that she had actually finished the meal._

_Vegeta too, had leaned back against the cabinet as he belched inaudibly, wiping his mouth with a small piece of cloth that he then tossed into a nearby waste bin._

_She smiled at him as he glanced back at her, feeling unnerved by how his eyes seemed so endless in depth, as if he could see right through her skin and into the darkest secrets of her heart._

_She cast around for something to say, but he beat her to it with a casual observation._

_“You came into the kitchen by yourself? Where are your servants?” he asked._

_“I didn’t really want to bother them. I just wanted something to drink. I have legs, I can easily get up to get one for myself.”_

_“Not much for propriety, I see.”_

_“It is hardly due to a lack of propriety,” she answered. “I was simply being pragmatic.”_

_He smirked. “You have yet to take your drink, pragmatic Princess.”_

_“Well perhaps I am no longer thirsty,” she shot back, beginning to gather her skirts. “And perhaps I should take my_ _leave-”_

_“Stay.”_

_She looked at him, shocked. “Excuse me?”_

_“Stay,” he repeated, and she was so surprised that she released her skirts and promptly sat straight beside him._

_“Well, aren’t you quite the gentleman,” she said._

_“I have never professed to be a gentleman,” he said with a wry grin._

_“You could try to be nicer to me on account of my being a lady.”_

_“I am a warrior. I have only two ways of distinguishing all beings: friend or enemy. Your gender has absolutely nothing to do with anything.”_

_“And am I not a friend?”_

_He frowned. “No, I do not think you are. But neither are you an enemy…. And that is what vexes me about you.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I look at you… and my blood runs faster. My heart thumps harder. My skin grows hotter. And… this has never happened to me before.”_

_Bulma flushed._

_It wasn’t just her, then…_

_“Well,” she said, casting around for something to say to change the topic. “All that I wish to know now is where you even got your tools to make your food. It seems to me like you had quite a haul of meat.”_

_He shrugged, seemingly content to let the subject drop, as well. “I went hunting in your forests and caught myself a large animal. I hope this is not offensive to you, but if I will be completely frank… I am thankful for your hospitality, but you all do not make nearly enough food to sustain a full Saiyan’s metabolism.”_

_Bulma had suspected as much. “I had always thought so. But have you been hunting for additional food, all this time?_

_He shrugged again. “It is not a problem. My only issue is that since the animals here are rather large, I usually kill a beast large enough to feed me for two days. But with no place to store them, I leave the rest of the carcass to your wildlife and need to hunt anew the following day. It is rather inconvenient.”_

_She brightened. “I may have a solution,” she said, digging around in her dress’ pockets. With a proud grin, she held out to him her most treasured invention._

_“What is this,” he asked, hesitantly taking the small, oval item from her._

_“That is a capsule,” she answered. “It is something that I came up with. You can store a bunch of items in there and they will stay frozen in their original state for at least a week. I haven’t perfected it yet, but I can probably make the longevity of it a bit longer.”_

_He looked skeptical, so she continued. “See that button on the side? If you press it, it will release a beam-like ray of light. You point at the item you want to place in the capsule, then you release it, and it sucks the item in!”_

_Vegeta looked around, and surely enough, tried the gadget on a pot. When the pot seemingly disappeared, he drew back in surprise._

_“What the-”_

_“Now see that larger button on top?” Bulma asked. “Press it, then toss the capsule on the table.”_

_He did, and Bulma watched with a shit-eating grin as the capsule popped off, revealing the pot it had stored._

_Vegeta’s eyes had gotten as large as saucers, and he sputtered as he stared at the innocent-looking capsule that now sat beside the pot._

_“Woman, that was brilliant!” he exclaimed, and Bulma beamed, pleasantly surprised at his praise._

_“Thank you,” she said._

_He picked the capsule up as he turned to face her. “I mean it. That was incredible. Do you intend to mass-produce these? Or perhaps to introduce the invention to your military? This technology would be exceedingly helpful.”_

_“Well, no. None of my inventions have been mass-produced-”_

_“There is more?”_

_She stared up into Vegeta’s astonished eyes, taken aback._

_He seemed so incredibly surprised, impressed even, and her heart beat faster at the look he was giving her._

_“Yes. Plenty more. But they have never been used because, well, you know,” she shrugged._

_“No, I do not know. Why would this technology be stranded on your shelves?”_

_“Because I’m a woman,” she answered casually._

_Why was he even asking? This was clearly-_

_“And what the fuck does that have to do with anything?”_

_It was her turn to be shocked. “What?”_

_He shook his head. “It would be ridiculous to keep this brilliant invention unused, and I fail to see why you are not shoving this in your father’s face right now.”_

_“I just told you, I’m a woman,” she explained. “I don’t know how you do things in Vegeta-sei, but here, as a woman, even as future Queen, my role is to support my husband. Nothing more than that.”_

_“That is ridiculous!” he half-shouted, and Bulma leaned back in surprise._

_“Well, I suppose I could show them the capsules and claim they are Goku’s invention, so they would be considered.”_

_“No!” he said, and se watched his hands move to grab her upper arms, making her face him fully. “No! This… this is_ your _work! Your planet, the whole galaxy, even, can benefit from this invention. And it should matter not that you are a woman. This is groundbreaking, Princess.”_

_She looked at him, feeling tears fill her eyes. “You think I should show them the capsules?”_

_“Yes!” he said, lifting a hand up._

_Before Bulma could move, she felt his gentle fingers on her cheeks, brushing away a stray tear._

_She felt indescribable heat follow in the trail of his touch, and she shivered, her vision zooming in only on the man who held her._

_Vegeta…_

_“Do you wish for me to help you talk to your father?” he asked, an almost soothing lilt in his tone. “Because I will. This… your mind is amazing. And all who live here should know it.”_

_She smiled, a genuinely happy smile as her heart soared at his words. “I… I will think about it.”_

8-8-8-8-8

Vegeta didn’t care that she was a woman. He recognized her talent as an equal, and she was shocked at how a man from such a radically powerful race could see things in such a way when her own people saw women as far beneath men.

His encouragement, coupled with her existing physical attraction to him, was an intoxicating combination.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she failed to hear the soft footsteps creeping up behind her, and when a firm grasp fell upon her shoulders, Bulma let out a painfully shrill shriek.

“Aiyeeee!” she screamed, turning around.

“Oi!” came from the man who now stood behind her, a finger in each ear. “That scream could wake three generations of fallen soldiers!”

“Vegeta!” she screeched, forgetting to use his title in her abject shock. “You scared the hell out of me! How did you even find me here?”

He smirked. “As miniscule as your power level is, it is not a challenge to locate you.”

She blinked. “You were looking for me?”

“Yes,” he responded. “I had been thinking about the capsule, so I resolved to look for you. And now, I have discovered where you spend much of your time.”

Bulma glanced around, feeling a little sheepish. “This is my lab of sorts.”

She self-consciously pulled at her white work shirt and loose brown pants, watching the prince who wore his blue shirt and pants without his white armor.

He looked at the various bots and pieces of mechanical items hanging around hooks and cabinets in the room. “Is this where your brain-children come into fruition, then?”

“Mostly, yes.”

“And what are those?” he asked gesturing to the gravity cuffs in her hands.

She gasped, pulling the gadgets to her chest.

Naturally, her actions did not escape his notice.

“Woman, what are those?” he asked again.

With astonishing speed, he took the items from her hold.

“Hey! Give those back!” she exclaimed, trying to reach for the cuffs, but before she could even move to touch him, Vegeta flew out of her reach, floating infuriatingly a few inches below the high ceiling.

“Your _highness_ ,” Bulma bit out. “Please give those back.”

A strange look had come over his features, an unreadable sort of frown on his lips.

“Woman,” he said again. “What are these?”

Bulma sighed. _“I guess I can’t help it now...”_                                                                                           

“Those are gravity cuffs,” she answered.

He looked at her in slight apprehension. “What do they do?”

“They alter gravity,” she said. “They surround the wearer with a thin field that increases the gravitational pull. I thought… I was thinking… the troops could use these to practice for the increased gravity on Vegeta-sei.”

He looked sharply at her. “Have you tested these?”

“Only on inanimate objects.”

“But not on a living person?”

“Not yet,” she said, shaking her head. “I was afraid to test them on myself because I’m not sure I can handle the possible effects.”

His brows furrowed as he floated back down to her. “Test it on me.”

“But…” she protested.

“How do you turn it on?” Vegeta asked, already fidgeting with the cuffs.

“Wait, Prince Vegeta!” she exclaimed, running towards him, trying to stop him from putting them on. “I have no idea of the effects on a living person! It could seriously hurt you-”

“I can handle it,” he said, staring seriously into her eyes. “This tool,  if it works, would be a tremendous advantage in preparing your troops for battle. Their ability to withstand Saiyan gravity could spell the difference between their demise and survival.”

“Yes, but-”

“Woman!” he yelled, stunning her into silence. “I can take it. I have endured a lot of injuries over the years, and nothing this gadget can possibly do due to a malfunction will hurt me. Now tell me how to use it.”

Bulma stared hard at him, considering.

The man did appear to be made of stone, and she knew that he was right… if anyone could help her test it, it would be him.

“Alright,” she sighed. “See the dial imbedded on the side? Turn it up until it reaches ten. Then press the red button on the side.”

He did as instructed, and Bulma watched with baited breath as a reddish aura reached out from the bracelets, coating him in a thin film of light.

Within seconds, she watched as his limbs shook slightly, and astonished, she roved her eyes over his body, noting the visible heaviness of his clothing.

Vegeta started laughing, a triumphant gleam in his eyes as he went down into a crouch, a low fighting stance that placed his full weight onto his legs.

He started punching at the air, the whole time grinning widely, before he looked up at Bulma with the same bright gaze.

“Woman, this is the gravity on Vegeta-sei! You have mimicked my planet’s gravity,” he said, thoroughly amazed.

She shrieked in delight. “Seriously?!”

“Yes! This is brilliant!” he said, excitement leaking from his every word. “Can this go any higher?”

“Yes, but be careful! Turn the dial again. It should be able to go up to one hundred.”

With a nod, Vegeta turned the dial, and Bulma kept her gaze on his feet, watching as the adjustment in gravity increased his weight, pushing him harder and harder down onto the floor of her lab.

When he reached one hundred, Bulma watched as the beads of sweat began to drip down his forehead, the struggle visible as he tried hard to stay upright.

After a few minutes, he pressed the red button, and Bulma started when the reduction of the gravity nearly made Vegeta lift up from the ground.

He looked at her, eyes alight in delight.

“That was incredible!” he said, looking down at the cuffs. “We have to show this to the King!”

She squealed again, unthinkingly leaping at him in her excitement, pulling the Saiyan into a big hug.

“It worked!” she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck as she jumped up and down against him. “It really worked!”

She felt his arms hold her around the waist as he whispered, “Woman, you amaze me.”

His low voice, and the husky intimacy of his tone, made rioting heat flare wildly deep in Bulma’s belly, and with a gasp, she pulled away from him, staring into his eyes.

He had grown still, regarding her with eyes full of alarm, as he slowly extricated himself from her embrace.

She heard his breaths, quick and shallow, and she cleared her throat, swallowing the painful lump that had formed in her chest.

Wordlessly, she led him to sit at the low bench beside her larger metal worktable, nervously pulling at the disheveled strands of her hair.

Her hands shook, eyes shifting erratically as she tried to look everywhere but at Vegeta, all the while unable to muster the strength to either leave or make him leave.

He was so overwhelming, and he was so _near_ …

She took a deep breath, only to take in the intoxicating scent of his body, the sinful musk of his sweat.

“Your invention,” he said, handing her the cuffs, his voice stilted, forced.

She quietly took the items from him, securing them in a locked drawer attached to the table.

“Shall we… speak to my father about them?” she asked.

“Perhaps tomorrow morning, at breakfast,” he answered.

They sat side by side, silent.

Suddenly, Vegeta barked out a laugh, and Bulma glanced questioningly at him, brow raised.

He shook his head. “When I saw the cuffs, I at first thought them to be ki-restriction shackles.”

“Whatever would I need those for?”

“Well,” he remarked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Perhaps for… _playtime…_ with Kakarot.”

She stared at him, confused. “Playtime?”

“Oh come now, Woman. Do not make me spell it out!”

“I don’t understand. I really don’t,” Bulma replied, her confusion rising when she saw a dark red flush blossom on his cheeks.

“Dammit, Princess,” he bit out. “For sex. I thought it was a toy, for a bondage kink.”

The blood rushed all the way into her head, and she sputtered in complete humiliation, the words spilling carelessly out of her lips as she raised her hands to cover her face that had gone strangely numb.

“I can’t believe you would even think – Oh you perverted-” she shrieked haltingly. “That you would even dare insinuate-”

He smirked as he watched her drown in her discomfort.

“That you would begin to imagine me in such a compromising position!”

“The word _imagine_ is quite a strong word, Princess-”

“I’ve _never_ been touched in such a way, and you joke about me using these cuffs for such-”

“ _What_ did you say?”

Bulma stopped ranting when she heard the shocked tone, his voice loud and breathless.

She dared to peek out from between her palms, before her hands fell to her lap as she noted his wide eyes and slackened jaw.

It was then, that she realized exactly what she had said, and she paled at the realization that she had just unwittingly revealed to him the most guarded secret of her and Goku’s marriage.

“I- I- What I mean-”

“Princess,” he started, hands lifting to hold the sides of her arms in a tight but unpainful grip. “You mean to tell me, that you and Kakarot have never… _lain_ together?”

She closed her eyes, willing him to stop asking, but he simply shook her, asking again.

“Princess Bulma,” Vegeta insisted. “I find it hard to believe that you meant what I _think_ you meant.”

She sighed, her chest heavy as she opened her eyes to look at him again.

“Yes, Prince, I meant exactly what you think I meant,” she admitted quietly.

“But… But how?” he asked, bewildered. “You have been married for years!”

“Ours is a loveless marriage,” she spat out. “Not to say that I detest him, but I love Goku as a brother, and he feels the same towards me. We… we cannot…”

He looked dumbfounded. “Never? You are… unsullied?”

She winces. “Yes. And… no one knows of this, Prince Vegeta. They can’t ever know. I beg you, let no one find out.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “How can you share a bedchamber and never… is there no lust, even?”

She shook her head. “I don’t… I don’t _desire_ him. I have never wanted him that way. I have never ever wanted a man before-”

She cut herself off, but as was often the case, he quickly caught on to the unspoken insinuation.

“Before…  what? Before what, Princess?” he asked.

Bulma’s eyes widened as she felt him move… a tiny bit closer…

“I don’t know what you mean,” she muttered.

Yet, even as she spoke the words, she felt her entire body heat rise in response to his ever confining proximity, and she shuddered when she felt his hands reach for hers, which had fisted tightly into the fabric of her pants.

“Don’t you?” he asked, “Because I think you do.”

“I don’t-”

“Do not lie to me. I know you feel it,” he hissed, and Bulma drew back slightly as he began to truly invade her personal space.

And, what an invasion…

His very presence felt like a drug, dulling Bulma’s mind, her senses on alert as she practically tasted him on her tongue…

“Since the moment I first laid eyes on you, I have wanted you, woman, as you have since wanted _me,_ ” he said, making her gasp.

“You are mistaken-”

“I can smell it on you,” he said, his voice a veritable purr. “Your scent… your body… it screams for mine.”

“Stop it!” she cried, raising her hands before her, but unable to touch him to push him away.

“I know why you have never felt desire for Kakarot,”he pushed. “It is because the gods themselves knew that you must save that desire…  for me.”

“I am a married woman-”

“Who remains a virgin still,” he interrupted. “But then again,”

Bulma’s entire body fell nearly limp at the hungry look in his eyes, and her palms burned to touch him, to feel his skin beneath her fingertips.

“Then again… what?” she asked, feeling her heart jump as the very notion of being in his midst finally became too much…

“Then, again…” he whispered, before a dark grin came over his face, his features twisting in wicked delight.

He suddenly pulled her flush against him, and as a gasp escaped Bulma’s lips, she felt him move so he was close enough to take in her breaths.

He breathed hard against her, pushing against her, and his lips were close enough to brush against hers as he said…

“We can fix that, right now, can we not?”

Before she could begin to form a coherent thought, he was upon her, his lips crashing almost violently against hers, and Bulma could do nothing more than gasp, her hands clutching convulsively at the cloth of his shirt.

It felt like lightning was shooting into her skin from every inch of her that was touched by him, and she shuddered as the shocking feel of him zipped through each nerve within her body.

She willed herself to pull away… to brace her hands and push him off her. She should slap him, send him away from her planet for _daring t_ o lay his hands on her…

But all she did was melt against him as his lips moved over hers, the force of his assault wreaking havoc on her every faculty, and Bulma was helpless, swept away by the tide of his ardor.

She heard herself moan, her eyes closing as his arms closed around her, and his mouth pressed insistently, deliciously upon hers.

His tongue swept into her mouth, swiping across her teeth and tangling with her own, his breaths breathing life into her lungs in a way that she had never before ever known.

She felt him clutch the back of her shirt, pulling so hard that she feared he would rend the material apart.

He groaned, then pulled away from their kiss, and she desperately clawed at his shoulders, enticing him to come back, to kiss her again, to do _more…_

Vegeta’s large hands then grasped her waist, the heat of his touch scorching her through her clothing, before he hastily grabbed the white material and pulled it up over her head, leaving Bulma naked from the waist up.

She blushed heavily as the cool air of the lab washed over her, and she moved to cover her breasts, but he was faster, sweeping her hands away before he pulled her up by the waist, effortlessly lifting her to lay her back on the table behind them.

She gasped as he unceremoniously shoved her tools aside, and the sound they made as they hit the floor almost woke her from the trance that he had placed her under.

“Prince Vegeta,” she rasped, and while her mind screamed at her about the mistake she was making, her treacherous eyes took in his larger form as he loomed over her, his thick arms bracing him on either side of her head.

“Vegeta,” he corrected, before he was upon her again, his lips leaving a long trail of burning desire from her lips and down her throat.

“Ah!” she cried, her fingers pressing at his waist, and he rose up again, only to grab ahold of his shirt and swiftly pull it over his head.

Bulma’s eyes roved greedily over the exposed flesh, and her hands followed suit, her palms itching to touch those smooth caramel planes, to see if they were as hard and smooth as her eyes perceived.

And dear gods, they absolutely were, and she relished the feel of him, delighted as her touch raised goosebumps along his flesh, exploring his body as he quickly plundered hers.

She felt a draft on her legs, and she squirmed as she realized that while she had been marveling over his firm chest and stomach, Vegeta had gone ahead and divested her of her pants.

The thin pants hung on her ankles, and she kicked them off with her flimsy shoes as she felt him move to stand between her spread legs, his hands cupping her buttocks over her underwear while his hot mouth moved down to cover the peak of her breast.

She keened softly, the sound small and sharp, as her nipple puckered beneath his tongue.

“Ve-Vegeta,” she moaned, and he grunted in response, one hand moving to knead gently at her other breast.

Her whole body was aflame, her legs stiff in anticipation, and Bulma felt a strange pain bloom within her core, starting from low on her stomach.

She clutched him against her as she lifted her hips, a part of her instinctually knowing that this pain… Vegeta could make it go away.

“Bulma,” he whispered low as his mouth released her breast, and he tweaked naughtily at the reddened nub as he nibbled on its twin.

She felt one of his hands caress her belly, before it snaked lower… lower… and teasingly played at the waistband of her panties.

She reached for him, raising herself up to rub herself against him, while one of his fingers moved lower until he was palming gently at her mound.

Before she could register the new sensation, he had moved even lower, and now moved his fingers leisurely upon her nether lips, pulling a strangled gasp from deep within her chest.

“Wet… gods, you are so wet,” he murmured against her chest. “Are you truly so ready for me, Bulma?”

He did not give her a chance to answer, before he had ripped her underwear aside, and hurriedly shoved his pants down so they fell to his feet, exposing himself to Bulma’s fevered gaze.

She looked down at him, large, long and turgid, before he leaned down so that his chest was on hers, rubbing deliciously against her sensitive nipples.

She felt him rub her from below, and a fissure of fear went through her as she realized that he was about to spear her with his body.

“Wait,” she whispered, her hands going to his cheeks, and he looked back at her face while he poised to penetrate her.

He stopped, his whole body frozen above her, the round bulb of his cock rubbing enticingly at her entrance, at the nub that shocked her with pleasure with every light pass.

“I want you, Bulma,” he growled, and he moved to nip teasingly at her jaw while he ground against her hips.

She mewled, mind a scattered mess…

This was wrong… so, so wrong…

But he felt so _good,_ and Bulma felt her heart leap as she felt him hump her from below, a hungry groan leaving her at the thought of the pleasure that awaited her.

His dark gaze met hers, and within the unfathomable darkness was a siren’s call that pulled at her every fiber… needy, aching for him to fill her…

She raised her hands, tangling her fingers in the thick strands of his hair, and pulled him down so their lips met.

He kissed her, devoured her, as she felt his thickness begin to push in…

She hissed, writhing against him as he held her down on the cold steel desk that had served as their bed of sin.

With a deep growl, he pulled her body against him as his hips surged _hard,_ and he breached her with near brutal force, making her bite down on his lower lip as the most poignant pain seared her from the inside.

“It… it hurts,” she whined, feeling tears spill from her eyes as she felt like he had torn her in two.

“Hush…” he whispered, his normally fierce voice soothing against her wet cheeks. “Relax… stop moving…”

His hands flitted comfortingly up and down her spine, his hips moving in gentle circles against her, grinding slowly against her, helping her through the shock of losing her maidenhead.

It felt like a small eternity, but before long, his body began to elicit the most delectable sensations from within her, and she moaned when he began to move more insistently, slowly pulling out and pushing back in.

Bulma panted hard, the sweat dripping down her brow and mixing with the drying tracks of her tears as Vegeta worked above her, his body slapping sensually against her, rubbing sensuously against her slickened skin.

A new, unfamiliar sensation began to build up in her core, and she cried out, almost fearful of the feeling…

“Ve-Vegeta!” she called out, breathless, out of her mind with the pleasure flowing through her limbs.

Her legs had seized, her arms trembling as she held on to his thick neck, tantalized by the hawk-like focus of his gaze on her lips.

“I-I… Vegeta!” she keened again, and he finally looked up, meeting her eyes…

The heavy sensation at her core suddenly burst, and Bulma screamed, eyes scrunching shut as she convulsed in his arms, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Bulma felt Vegeta move faster, pistoning hard and fast, in and out of her body.

She stopped shaking as tremors began to quake within him, and she watched as his jaw fell slack, rough, uncontrolled breaths heaving through his chest as bitten out fragments of her name spilled spastically from his lips.

And then…

His face contorted in what looked almost like pain as he shuddered out a curse, and Bulma gazed at him, imprinting the euphoric look on his face into her memory…

The money shot, like a precious photograph, the most unforgettable view she had ever beheld…

Vegeta’s face, flooded with ecstasy, as he came within her, flooding her with his essence, the evidence of their moment of weakness spilling down her inner thighs.

He fell against her, his arms wrapping around her body while his face rested against her chest.

And in the aftermath of the most incredible physical pleasure that Bulma had ever experienced, only one thought echoed painfully through her mind…

_“What have I done?”_

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	2. Possessed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma stews in guilt over her infidelity while she focuses on helping the troops prepare for battle. She tries her best to forget about her lapse in judgment, but it seems as if the object of her temptation isn’t quite willing to be forgotten.  
> Day 2: Bites; for the October 2018 / Fall 2018 Vegebul Smutfest.  
> Chapter Warnings: Smut/Explicit sexual content; Adultery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Here’s Chapter 2! My phone is screaming at me for the abuse from all the typing, but what can I say? Vegebul smut is always, always, worth it. Lol!  
> Enjoy, and as usual, feedback would be lovely!

Bulma was a wreck.

It had been three days since her tryst with Vegeta, and try as she might, she could not get rid of the all-consuming guilt that ate at her very soul.

She had cheated on her husband.

It didn’t matter that she and Goku had never slept together. They had made a vow to stay together, to be faithful to each other, forever.

She had broken those vows.

Her mind was in agony at the knowledge of her adultery…

And yet, her heart floated merrily among the clouds, enthralled by the memories of the sinful touches of the Saiyan whom she had allowed to defile her body and her marriage.

Vegeta…

His dark gaze was all she could see every time she closed her eyes, his face in the throes of passion the only vision filling her head as she drifted off to sleep.

The way his mouth had hung open as he surged faster within her body, how his touch had felt like electricity lancing through her veins…

She froze, before shaking her head defiantly, getting even angrier at herself.

She was such scum…

A whore, hiding behind long, flowing dresses and the unscalable palace walls.

The whole thing was made even more dreadful by the fact that right after they were done, he had stood up, holding a hand out to her to help her up, and after they had dressed, he headed out of her lab as if nothing had happened.

As if he had not just turned her world upside down.

As if he had not just taken her chastity.

She could not face Goku as he had come into their chambers, and had feigned sickness as he had crawled into the separate bed that he had installed for himself on a far corner of the room.

Over breakfast the following morning, while her heart and mind were still in painful turmoil, Vegeta had swept casually into the room, barely sparing her more than a smirk, and had easily brought her inventions to her father’s rapt attention.

Yet, from there, stemmed the only good thing that had happened to Bulma since she had been thrust into her sham of a marriage.

A man’s influence truly was a great thing in Capsura, as the king had immediately demanded that he be shown the cuffs and the capsules. It was as if the mere blessing of a man like Vegeta had been enough to convince her father that her inventions had been worth more than a mere glance.

The king had praised her, and Bulma had beamed, as for the very first time, her work was finally, _finally_ , recognized.

The prototypes had been sent to Capsura’s best technicians, and she had been tasked to oversee  as they were reproduced with the use of her blueprints.

She wanted to thank Vegeta, but he had turned away from her, the look in his eyes distant, almost as if she had been a stranger.

And this, to her chagrin, was the thing that bothered her the most.

While she felt like absolute dirt for her infidelity, what made Bulma hate herself the most was the fact that she had been _hurt_ by his actions.

The logical part of her knew that after the sin they had committed, they should act discreet, so as not to arouse suspicions about their liaison.

And yet, it pained her, when he regarded her with nothing beyond a passing glance, or greeted her formally when they passed each other in the halls.

She cringed as she realized that she wanted him to acknowledge her.

She cried as she realized that, while she understood the severe wrongness of her actions, an exceedingly larger part of her somehow wanted _more_.

She was much too important, much too powerful, to be stuck in an adulterous relationship. She was a Princess, the future Queen of Capsura, and it was an absolute disgrace for her to be pining after a man who was not her husband, who for all accounts was an immoral mistake.

And yet, she was a woman who craved love, needed to feel desired… a woman who was seeking recognition for her worth, and this, she feared, was what had made her fall for Vegeta’s wiles.

It seemed that, as they prepared for the battle on Vegeta-sei, her treacherous heart had begun its own insurrection, fighting against a system that looked down on her for the mere fact that she had been born a woman, by aligning with the only man who had shown her impartiality as a person.

Vegeta had shown her lust, but before that, he had shown her his admiration, his acknowledgment of her long-denied genius, and she had easily thrown herself into his arms after a few lascivious words.

She was a fool…  a dirty, adulterous fool.

The self-castigation weighed heavily on her shoulders, and she tried her hardest to concentrate on the ongoing reproduction of her technology, to steer her mind away from thoughts of her inexcusable indiscretion.

It had been a couple of days since work had begun, and while the soldiers trained with their weapons, the scientists worked to replicate her technology as quickly as possible.

She peered carefully into the mechanism presented to her by their lead scientist, Dr. Gero, and she smiled as she saw the correct alignment that was vital for the proper syncing of the gravity simulation with a human body.

“This is excellent, Dr.,” she remarked, and he smiled, taking the apparatus from her with a courteous bow.

“May I just say, Princess, that this truly is an amazing invention,” he said. “I am surprised that this was not introduced earlier.”

“Well, I am glad it was found to be potentially useful by my father,” she replied.

“Your father, King Trunks… I have had the honor of entering school alongside him when we were boys, and I should say, that if he had not been slated to be king, he, himself, could have become a brilliant inventor,” he mused.

“But alas, we would never know anything beyond _ifs_ ,” Bulma answered.

“I am just glad that Prince Vegeta of the Saiyans had seen fit to mention this technology to His Majesty,” Gero replied.

She stiffened at the mention of his name, as if he was a monster in hiding, summoned easily upon the utterance. “Yes, I believe we have him to thank.”

“Though I believe he is not doing it out of simple benevolence, Princess,” he admitted. “He had asked that I give him the original prototype for his personal use, after we manufacture enough to distribute to a few other soldiers.”

“Did he?” she asked, surprised. “I haven’t heard of this before. Does he intend to use it as he trains?”

“We have been instructed by King Trunks to cap the gravity off at twenty times Capsura’s gravity for all the reproductions, for the safety of our men… but Prince Vegeta specifically requested for the prototype as it maxes out at one hundred,” he clarified.

Bulma’s brows flew up in surprise. “So he _does_ intend to train with it? Do you think his body can handle such strain?”

Gero nodded. “I believe so, Princess. See, he is a full Saiyan. And these men grow stronger, the more they push themselves, sometimes to near death. I believe the Saiyan Prince is trying to reach what they call The Legendary, a power beyond any other Saiyan. I am not too well-versed in their mythology, however, so I myself am unsure.”

She nodded, about to change the topic, when Gero coughed lightly.

“Also, the Prince made sure to remind us that he will take nothing less than the original cuffs, as he stated that he would like to make use of the one version that was made by your hand. He has tremendous belief in your abilities, Your Highness.”

Bulma mustered all her willpower to not let the surprise and slight giddiness show on her face, thanking the years of stoicism practice she had gained as a member of the royal family for the acquired skill.

“And I owe him my gratitude for his proud endorsement of my talents,” she answered, before she excused herself to retreat to her quarters.

Bulma walked slowly towards her bed chambers, lost in thoughts of the upcoming battles and her indiscretions, and so she barely heard the soft, sweet voice calling her name the moment she stepped back into the palace.

“Bulma!” the voice rose higher until she finally noticed, and she turned around, coming face to face with her mother, Queen Panchy.

The queen was walking gracefully towards her, and not for the first time, Bulma felt a slight twinge of awe as she watched her mother approach.

Panchy had always been so gentle and feminine, a true lady with her curly blond hair. She carried her long pink gowns with complete elegance, in complete contrast to Bulma, who preferred to wear comfortable clothing that offered a wider range of movement.

“Mother,” she greeted with a smile and a curtsy. “How are you today?”

“I am fine, dear. Although I do have a concern that is frankly…” Panchy looked around in obvious discomfort, “private.”

Bulma’s eyes widened, and she quickly pulled her mother by the hand until they were safe in the privacy of her room.

She locked the door, then turned to her mother. “What is it, mother?”

She watched as Panchy wrung her hands in distress. “Bulma, my darling… I need you to promise me that you will tell me only truths.”

Bulma was intrigued now. “I… do I have anything to be concerned about? “

“A little,” was the answer. “Well? Do you promise?”

Bulma nodded hesitantly. “I promise.”

“Well…” Panchy breathed in deep. “I wish to know if you have been performing your wifely duties diligently with Goku, and if you have been trying for an heir.”

Bulma blanched, mortified.

And perhaps, due to her recent sexual encounter with Vegeta – who was most definitely _not_ her husband – her reaction was stormier than it otherwise would have normally been.

She reeled back, eyes wide with shock as she stuttered in fury, “How- what- how _dare_ you ask me such a thing!”

“Bulma, dear, calm down-”

“No! No, mother! I will not calm down!” she stamped her feet angrily. “What I do behind closed doors is none of your business!”

“Bulma, listen to me,” Panchy placated. “I meant no offense. I just needed to know if you have stopped taking the pregnancy prevention pills and if things are going well for your marriage. This is something that is natural between a husband and his wife. Why are you so angry?”

Bulma straightened at that, gathering her wits about her.

No, she had not stopped taking the pills that kept her cycle moving regularly. She was glad, as it would have been disastrous if she had somehow conceived after what happened between her and Vegeta.

Vegeta…

She knew exactly why she had overreacted.

Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to center herself. With a huff, she asked, “Why do you even want to know?”

Panchy sighed, and for the first time, Bulma noticed the signs of worry on her mother.

“Mother? Is everything alright?” she asked the queen.

Panchy looked up at her, eyes heavy. “No, dear. I fear for the future of Capsura. I fear for the future our royal line.”

“Why? What do you mean?”

“I mean that we are the first generation of Capsuran royals to have an unclear line of succession. Our enemies may use this against us to usurp us,” the queen answered. “You know of our laws. Capsura must be ruled by a _king_ , not a queen. You are our only heir, and your husband, powerful as he may be, cannot ever be called king because he is born from a commoner and an _alien._ You, as future queen, can only act as interim until your heir, a _son,_ is of age to become the king.”

Bulma stood silent at this. This was something that was truly troubling…

Panchy continued. “There are those who wish to topple us from the throne. Those who oppose your father’s decision to aid the Saiyans in their insurrection. If they see that the royalty does not have a ready line of succession, they will find a way to take us down. And you and Goku having a son post-haste is the only way to ensure-”

“Well, did you ever ask me?” Bulma said, her guilt mixing with her irritation and discontent with her situation. “Perhaps I wish to be rid of this responsibility!”

“Bulma!”

“I am to be queen!” she protested, “But instead of being granted liberties, I have been forced to marry someone I do not want to become a wife to. My life is more controlled than those of common women. Maybe I want to live my life as a woman with a _choice_!”

“Enough!” Panchy shouted, and Bulma paused in shock.

Panchy was a calm woman, and for all of Bulma’s life, she had never yet heard her mother raise her voice, not once.

The queen spoke again. “I will hear no more of this! You need an heir. A powerful one. One who will inspire awe in all of our people. And Goku is your only way. A husband with the compassion of a Capsuran and the might of a Saiyan. You will produce a powerful heir.”

“I do not want-”

“What you want does not matter!” Panchy hissed. “I see why you are so angry. You have not been trying for an heir, at all. But Bulma, you must understand… You _need_ an heir. For the future of our entire planet.”

Panchy then turned from her, a swirl of colorful lace and golden hair trailing after her, and Bulma was left to stare, dumbfounded, as her mother’s words registered in her mind.

Bulma clenched her fists, hopeless tears gathering in her eyes as she stared unseeingly at the door from whence her mother had left.

“She’s right,” Bulma muttered. “I… I must bear a child. A child who is part-Saiyan…”

Her breaths caught as she swallowed back a dry heave at the next thought…

“I need to sleep with Goku…”

8-8-8-8-8

She needed to muster up the courage to get Goku to agree, but Bulma herself was caught in an absolute nightmare, confused thoughts running rampant through her head.

She was constantly on edge, and she tried hard to concentrate on the questions of the scientists who were trying to understand the hydraulics that she had employed in her Capsules.

It was as she was confused by her own notes that the person she least wanted to see in the entire planet came sauntering in, an infuriating easy smirk on his lips.

“Greetings, Princess,” called the familiar, low voice, as his self-assured steps brought him into her line of sight.

“Prince Vegeta,” she bit out, plastering a fake smile on her face. “To what do we owe the honor of this visit?”

His smirk turned into a full-blown evil grin. “I wish only to see the process of the reproduction of your impressive inventions. And as I am taking a break from training, I thought I would drop by.”

“Ah, really now?” Bulma asked, eyeing the men who worked nearby. “See, I have not spoken to you since _that day_ that I first showed you the gravity cuffs.”

“I am quite aware,” he answered, his voice suddenly dipping even lower, as his eyes narrowed on her.

His eyes did a quick scan of her body, from head to toe, and in spite of herself, Bulma shivered beneath his gaze, a thrill seeping into her bones when she spied the very obvious desire in his stare.

She narrowed her eyes at him, doing a quick check herself, pausing when she saw the gravity cuffs secured to his wrists.

“Are you walking around with the gravity cuffs on like some kind of accessory?” she huffed.

“Ah, yes,” he agreed, glancing down at the said cuffs, the teasing grin still plastered on his lips. “They are quite fashionable. I may even prefer them to some of the gaudy bracelets that we have on Vegeta-sei.”

Something about how he dismissed the jewels that she had longed to own for her entire life grated on her, and unable to stop herself she shot back, “Only because you own some.”

 “Is that bitterness I hear?” he smirked.

Bulma looked at him, ready to shoot back with an insult on the tip of her tongue, when she noticed a twinge of genuine curiosity in his gaze.

“Not _bitterness._ Maybe a bit of envy, I will admit,” she admitted reluctantly

She looked away, unable to look him in the eye when she saw how he had zeroed in on her, his laser focus seemingly piercing through her skin.

“Envy? For the jewels?” he asked.

Bulma hesitated at the way his voice had lost some of its edge, and she forced her gaze to stay away from him.

“ _Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll drop it,_ ” she thought.

Vegeta, however, did not like being ignored.

“Woman, answer me. Did I misunderstand?” he asked, moving closer to her as he stood stubbornly, arms crossed.

She felt a growl begin to rise from the back of her throat, but she tamped it down, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose as a soft huff left her lips.

“No, you did not misunderstand,” she finally said. “I have heard of these jewels, seen some old jewelry hidden away in our royal chests, but have never been allowed to wear them. They are literal treasures that have become so rare since Vegeta-sei had gone into war, so they are kept locked away.”

He remained quiet, and Bulma glanced at him, only to find him staring intently at the distance, his thoughts far away.

“Prince Vegeta?” she asked, worried by the stern look on his face.

His dark eyes were strangely melancholy, and Bulma found that the look unsettled her far more than any glares that she had seen him direct towards the troops, her husband, or even herself.

As if coming out of a trance, he stirred at the call of his name, and he looked at her with the residual emotion in his eyes, a look that called out to the deepest corners of her heart, making her want to reach out and comfort him in her arms.

“I…” he began, stilted, hesitant. “I don’t really care for much of the gems. Most have been lost or destroyed in the war. However… I do have a few pieces that hold significance to me. Those, I would not part with.”

It was such moments of vulnerability that reminded Bulma that, alien or not, Vegeta was a living man with real emotions, and the small glimpses of his humanity warmed her heart, pulling a small smile from her lips.

“Every person alive,” she answered, “has that one thing that means more to us than any other.”

“And what might yours be, Princess?” he asked, looking curiously at her.

She smiled a little wider. “I have a scepter made of Saiyan gold, given to me by my grandmother before she passed. It is a symbol of my place as the future queen, and has a place of honor in my chambers. And you?”

Vegeta grinned, a small but true smile that sent Bulma’s heart to pound madly within her chest.

“My crown,” he answered. “Among a few other things.”

“Well,” she answered, looking away to focus on her notes once again. “After you win the war, you can once again rule your people as you wear that crown upon your head.”

She felt as he turned away from her, and just as she had thought he was going to leave without another word, he spoke.

“Yes, and perhaps alongside a proper queen who shall wear the crown to match.”

She turned to look at him, eyes wide, only to find that he had gone as quickly as he had come, leaving nothing but a shadow of his presence beside her.

The implications of his words churned in her head, and Bulma wanted to vomit as she thought of how underhandedly hurtful those words had been to her, chastising herself for feeling anything at all.

A proper queen, was something she could never be to Vegeta.

And perhaps, him saying that to her had been his acknowledgment that what they had done together was a mistake, a pointless mistake, that was never to be repeated again.

It was time for Bulma to stop dreaming of a forbidden man, and to act the part of the future queen to her own people.

8-8-8-8-8

Night had fallen, but Goku was still nowhere to be found, and Bulma was shaking.

He was not the most reliable man when it came to keeping track of time, but Goku was not the kind of person who would disappear without letting anyone know.

She paced around the room in her night clothes, a set that she had never worn before, as they were slightly translucent and very improper for a night sleeping near her very platonic husband.

However, she had worn it that night, keeping her mother’s words in mind, hoping that the tryst she had with Vegeta had prepared her well enough in trying to make her husband respond to her carnally.

A small, inexplicable shiver went through her spine, and she shook herself as she mulled about how thoughts of that day still filled her with completely improper desire.

A mere second after the unwelcome thoughts filled her mind, she heard three heavy knocks on her chamber door.

She turned to the door, brows quirked in puzzlement.

Goku would never knock, but who would ever dare approach the princess in her chambers so late at night?

“Who’s there? Goku?” she called out, slowly making her way towards the door.

She thought she heard a snicker, before a voice that was decidedly _not_ Goku, but familiar all the same, responded.

“Does your own husband knock at the threshold of your chambers, Princess?”

She hastened her steps at that, indignantly pulling the wide doors of the bedroom open to bitch at the infuriating person waiting beyond.

“Prince Vegeta!” she hissed in agitation, taking in his thick form leaning jauntily on the door frame.

He was smirking, arms clad in his usual thick suit crossed over his chest. He was wearing his less formal white and gold breastplate, the one without the thick shoulder guards. The armor fit snugly around his torso, above the powerful thighs that were also encased in his thick blue pants.

He pushed away from the wooden panels almost lazily, and without even asking for permission, he pushed past her and arrogantly walked into her room.

“H-hey! Who said you could come in?!” she sputtered disbelievingly, angrily staring at the man who had promptly made his way to the sitting area to lounge on her couch.

He was looking around with a bored expression, like a King surveying his lands, and finding them balefully lacking.

“Your quarters are a lot more meager than I imagined,” he drawled, making Bulma flush in indignation.

“I- I- what the he- _Why are you here?_ ” she screeched as she finally closed the door with a furious slam.

“This room is much too sparsely furnished for a future queen,” he remarked, completely ignoring her fury. “A sitting area with a single small table. And I suppose your actual sleeping quarters would look about the same.”

“Prince Vegeta, what are you doing in _my_ _bedroom_?” she demanded as he got up and proceeded to walk towards the archway that led into her sleeping area.

“Two beds?!” he exclaimed, and Bulma rolled her eyes as she followed him.

“Yes, two beds,” she affirmed, pointing to the larger one with the thick wooden posters. “That one is mine, and the smaller one to the left is Goku’s. Though to all others, that bed is supposed to be an unused spare, in preparation for the royal heir.”

“Tch,” he sneered. “You think I cannot tell which one between these is _your_ bed? That smaller one reeks of Kakarot, while the larger one carries your much more pleasing scent.”

A furious blush erupted on her cheeks, and she was about to respond with snark when she noticed that his eyes had traveled down, appreciatively taking in the sight of her body that was barely hidden by luminous clothing.

One of his brows had quirked up, as did one side of his lips, and Bulma lifted her arms to cross before her chest, self-consciously concealing her breasts from his view.

“Is this what you wear to bed, Princess?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice as he began to saunter closer to her, making Bulma take a small step back.

“That is none of your business,” she said, somehow successfully hiding the shaking of her tone.

“Now, I have to wonder about Kakarot,” he commented, reaching towards her to finger a lock of her hair from her shoulder.

Bulma watched with rapt attention as Vegeta lifted the fistful of hair, leisurely running the strands through his fingers.

“How in Sadala did he ever manage to keep his hands to himself,” he asked, his voice low, sending a tremor down Bulma’s spine, “when he comes into his chambers with a wife who looks this… alluring?”

She sucked in a breath as she cast around for something to say. “I don’t normally wear such things to bed.”

His eyes narrowed on her, straying further down to linger at her chest, just as Bulma realized that she had already dropped her arms to her sides, giving him a full view of her breasts beneath the silk.

“What makes today different then, Princess?”

The question snapped Bulma out of her trance as she suddenly remembered…

“Goku!” she gasped softly, stepping away from Vegeta, making him let go of her hair as she wrapped her arms around herself protectively.

She had worn those revealing silks for _Goku_. Not for Vegeta.

“Where is Goku?” she demanded, looking Vegeta in the eye. “Why are you here, and where is _my husband_?”

Vegeta’s gaze darkened, and Bulma swallowed a gasp as she caught a glimpse of the Prince’s rumored ruthlessness, the terrifying wrath that he was said to display on the battlefields.

“Your husband will not be returning home for the night, and I was sent to convey that to you, Princess,” he said. “He, upon orders of your father, had left immediately to inspect some irregular activities. He shall be home by morning.”

“Why was I not told?!” she fumed. “My husband was made to leave and nobody bothered to let me know?”

“It was _sudden,”_ Vegeta said, crossing his arms over his chest again as he leaned his weight on one leg. “There was no time, he had to leave immediately.”

Bulma was stunned. Anger forgotten, she felt her brows furrow in concern at the foreboding thoughts that entered her mind.

“Why was it so urgent, Vegeta? Is there a problem? Is my planet in danger?” she asked.

Vegeta shook his head, but as she kept her questioning gaze on him, she saw his resolution begin to waver.

He sighed, deep and frustrated. “It may be. There was a security breach… And I was told that this had never happened before.”

Her blood ran cold. Was the peace of Capsura about to come to an end?

Vegeta looked contrite as he kept his eyes down, watching the patterns of the concrete flooring as if they fascinated him to no end.

“I apologize,” he said. “I suppose- rather, I _know_ , that my presence here had brought this upon you.”

She shook her head, speaking through the tears that threatened to fall at her worry for her people. “No. We have been spared from this war for far too long. It was only a matter of time before Frieza decided to try to infiltrate us. You being here may have actually helped.”

“How so?” he asked, looking genuinely curious.

“You coming here helped us prepare,” she clarified. “When your King came to us for our help eight years ago, we were made alert, and we had been silently preparing since then. Now, we have been made even more aware of the urgency, and our people are training hard to fight against Frieza.”

“The whole war is our fault. Us, Saiyans,” he hissed. “We are the most powerful race in this constellation, and in our arrogance, we had let things go too far until it became too much for us to handle.”

“I think it was inevitable,” Bulma said. “The only thing you did was begin the resistance. If it had not been for you, all of us in the constellation would have been enslaved by now.”

He growled, turning away from her to glare out a nearby window. “This… peace. This tranquility I see on your planet. It is something I have never had the luxury to enjoy. I wish for this war to be over. So that I could… _my people_ , so they could all lead the lives they had always been supposed to lead.”

Bulma felt her heart go out to him, to this tortured prince of a chaotic warrior race, and before she could think her actions through, she had gone to him, reaching out to hold his shaking form.

She wrapped her arms around him from behind, feeling the tenseness of his body with the palm of her hand resting upon his stomach. She noted the way the muscles of his arms strained as he clenched his fists in his anger.

She felt his deep fury, his well-hidden melancholy, and she began to fully comprehend the conundrum of a future ruler whose lands were blanketed by uncertainty.

He was a man who wanted to fight for his people, and though he was powerful, she sensed his doubts, his fears… She felt her heart go out to him in pity, in sadness for the current state of his kingdom.

“It will be alright, Vegeta,” she whispered. “This war… it will be over soon. And you and your people will be at peace again.”

He relaxed ever so slightly, and Bulma felt his fingers fall upon her hands on his stomach, hesitantly stroking her skin as he seemed to derive comfort from her touch.

They stood still for a few minutes, until she suddenly felt him stiffen slightly, and she immediately realized what she had been doing.

She backed away, gently extricating herself from him, and with a nervous laugh, she pushed her hair back from her face, wrapping her arms around her body that had suddenly grown cold as she moved away from his heat.

He turned to her, his eyes boring holes through her as he thoughtfully clucked his tongue.

Right before her eyes, she watched as he banished his sadness, concealing it with a well-constructed wall of nonchalance.

“Now then,” he suddenly said, a slow smirk spreading over his lips. “I believe you failed to answer my earlier question.”

Bulma gaped at the sudden turn, and before she could sputter out her confusion, he stepped towards her, crowding her with his presence as his eyes took on a dark gleam.

She trembled beneath his stare, and she reached behind her, surprised to find that he had somehow managed to lure her to stand at the edge of her bed.

“Why,” he asked, “are you wearing something so… enticing?”

She gulped, pushing back the nerves as she straightened, looking him dead in the eye.

“Because,” she began, her voice oozing with false bravado. “I wish to wear it for my husband.”

His brow arched, and undeterred, he asked, “For what reason?”

She stood straight, and proudly declared, “To entice him to sleep with me.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath, watched the curious narrowing of his eyes. “Oh, really? You want to seduce Kakarot, now? After you told me of how there is no lust between you two?”

She nodded, resolute. “I must perform my wifely duties if I am to become a good queen.”

“And you think,” he hissed, making Bulma draw back from the surprisingly malevolent tone, “that just because I _fucked_ you that once, that you would have what it takes to make a man sleep with you?”

“There is nothing wrong with wanting to have sex with my own husband!” she protested loudly.

“You have never wanted him before, why would you start now?” Vegeta shouted back.

“What is it to you?” she demanded. “You… you are a- a- a _heathen!_ You tempted me into sin!”

“And you enjoyed every. Single. Second.”

“You have no right over me!” she yelled, her heart slamming madly against her rib cage in her indignation.

She gasped in utter shock when his hands landed solidly on her shoulders, and she squealed as he pushed her back, making her lose her balance.

She fell back onto her bed, bracing herself with her arms as she glared up at him, furious. “How dare you?!”

“No, how dare _you_!” he answered, as he suddenly descended upon her, holding her down onto the bed as he wrapped his large hands about her waist.

“Get off me!” Bulma yelled, struggling, her hands reaching up to pound against his chest. “Vegeta! What do you think you’re doing?”

His face was contorted in rage, and Bulma gasped when he leaned all his weight down onto her as he moved his snarling lips to her ear.

“Claiming what is _mine.”_

With those words, he grasped the neckline of her flimsy night dress and _yanked,_ completely ripping it from her body, leaving her enraged and nude, pressed flat against her bed and its pristine white sheets.

“Stop!” she began to scream, but before she could protest further, she felt his fingers move to harshly clutch at the mounds of her breasts.

Against her better judgment, the feel of his rough hands on her smooth skin felt indescribably good, and Bulma moaned in immediate acquiesce as she felt him growl against her, his teeth nipping at the side of her neck.

“Vegeta,” she gasped. “Don’t…”

“Don’t what?” he asked, his breaths hot as flames against her neck.

“You… we can’t… not again-”

She groaned in a mixture of pain and desire when she felt his sharp teeth suddenly bite down into the side of her throat.

“Ah! Vegeta!” she cried, and she felt her treacherous hands move to clutch needily at his arms, clawing at the thick material of his clothing as his breastplate pressed gains her naked breasts.

“You want me, Bulma,” he snarled.” You cannot convince me otherwise.”

She wanted to weep at the truth of his words as she felt her entire body respond to his nearness, arching towards him as he laved her neck with careless kisses, his lips leaving a burning trail that ricocheted from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes.

His tongue and lips suckled her, his teeth biting repeatedly along her collarbone, playing with her skin until his pleasurable caresses left rapidly darkening bruises upon her skin.

When she was heaving with want, Vegeta stood, impatiently pulling his shirt and armor off in one deft motion, before he bore down on her, sinuously sliding along her form.

Bulma reached up, pulling him down so he was flush against her body, his thick chest resting on her soft breasts, and before he could make another move, she arched up, breathlessly slanting her mouth on his, swallowing his gasp of delight as he was finally assured of her surrender.

She felt his hands travel lower, until he grabbed hold of her thigh, lifting it to sling it over his hip. He ground down onto her, pressing his hardness enticingly against her barely-clothed core, and Bulma took in a quick, shallow breath before she moaned into their kiss.

Her tongue surged forward, claiming his mouth with her passion as his hands possessed her body with his fervor.

They moved together, writhing against each other, and as his growls began to blend into an erotic symphony with her mewls, Bulma keenly felt as he ripped her underwear from her before he pushed his pants down his narrow hips.

He pulled back, and Bulma took this new chance to let her eyes feast on the perfection of his body, all the deep dips and angles that defined the warrior who now laid above her, on her bed.

He too, seemed to like what he saw, as his eyes greedily took in the sight of her body, his gaze pausing on the plumpness of her breasts and the roundness of her hips, before stopping to marvel at her now dripping core.

Her legs shook as his hands gently pushed her thighs apart, and while a large part of Bulma shriveled back in utter embarrassment, a more insistent part of her giddily leapt in anticipation as he moved towards her center with unabashed intent.

Vegeta moved down… down… until his eyes were level with her womanhood, and Bulma felt her nipples pucker in desire as he edged even closer, until she felt his heavy breaths wash over her nether lips.

A single short flick of his tongue sent her reeling, and Bulma’s eyes widened in shock as pleasure zipped up her spine from the point where his naughty mouth made contact.

“Ah!” she cried when he did it again, and again, and she screamed in euphoria when he dove in, letting his tongue enter her while his lips sweetly swept over her core.

“Oh! Oh, Vegeta,” she moaned, her hips selfishly grinding against his face, and he began to growl, sending sinful vibrations through her, making her arms quake until she was helpless to do anything more than grab fistfuls of her sheets to keep herself grounded.

Just as she felt her pleasure cresting, Vegeta pulled away, only to bite down onto her inner thigh, making Bulma scream once again.

He moved up, before he lifted her off her back, turning her until Bulma was face-down on the bed.

Her feet hung over the edge of her mattress, while he kneeled between her wide-open thighs. She turned to look questioningly at Vegeta as she felt him pull her hips up until she was on her hands and knees.

He draped himself over her then, his hard chest splayed across her back, and she quivered in desire as she felt his hardness, raw, hot and naked, pressing delectably upon her core from behind.

“Bulma,” he growled, and she gasped when he suddenly grabbed a big fistful of her hair, forcing her to arch her head back as he pulled harshly at the blue strands.

“Look at me,” he commanded, just as she felt him begin to push into her.

She closed her eyes as she moaned, long, high and needy, uttering a groan of protest when he suddenly stopped going deeper.

“I said,” he growled, “ _look_ at me!”

With insurmountable effort, she opened her eyes, forcing herself to focus on his hypnotic dark gaze.

When he was convinced that her eyes were on him, he began to push in again, and Bulma fought every impulse screaming at her to close her eyes and relish in the bliss of their joining.

He released her hair only to grasp her hips, and he straightened, grinding on her with his narrow hips, cushioned by the soft roundness of her buttocks.

She mewled, her hands aimlessly grasping, until she once again clawed wildly at her sheets, his name on the edges of her lips.

He pulled out… then, with his hands on her hips, he suddenly yanked her, impaling her powerfully with a single hard thrust.

“Aaah! Vegeta!” she screamed, and with that, he began to pound into her, his hips leading her through a punishing rhythm that had her shrieking in pleasure, helplessly wailing as she panted from exertion.

He moved _hard,_ fast, and Bulma’s fists began to grab at her sheets as her upper body fell limply onto the bed, his movements smashing her face onto the softness of the bed while he surged, unstoppable, into her core.

She convulsively reached up, her hand finding a small feather pillow, and her jerking movements soon had her clutching it as she screamed helplessly under Vegeta’s assault.

A particularly brutal thrust had her squealing, and in her utter ecstasy, she found herself biting into the pillow as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm her.

Vegeta leaned down again, and as he draped himself over her back once more, she felt his lips hover across her shoulders, ghosting softly upon her skin.

“Vege- taah!” she screamed as she felt his teeth bite down onto her again, and in the midst of the pain and pleasure, Bulma felt her core begin to shake, as her legs stiffened, her toes curling as her body prepared for her release.

“Oh… Oh!” she cried as he panted behind her, and seemingly out of nowhere, a blinding flash of heat erupted from her every pore, rendering her speechless as her body knew nothing but the utter rhapsody of Vegeta’s touch.

He too stiffened, and she felt his seed fill her once again, before he finally fell over, sending both of them to crash down onto the unruly sheets.

It took a long time before either of them caught their breaths, and she felt his laughter rumble across her back as he rested his weight on her.

“Now, you can’t even _think_ of trying to seduce Kakarot,” he said. “Not unless you want him to see _these.”_

She turned her head to see what he was referring to, and when she did, she gasped loudly, outraged.

“You… you _animal!”_ she hissed, seeing the large, purpling bruises that he had left upon her skin, feeling the throbbing from his bites on her thigh and across her chest.

He braced himself up slightly, just enough to peer evilly into her face, red with her anger.

“Oh yes,” he agreed, a hand lazily trailing up her spine, sending shocks of pleasure through her in spite of her rage.

He grinned at her, seemingly delighted with her fury.

“Only _I_ can touch you. And you would do best to remember that,” he whispered.

Bulma felt his weight leave her, and she turned onto her back, still sluggish from their tryst.

He was already dressing up, and she watched wordlessly as he composed himself before he nonchalantly headed for the door.

Without another word, he turned the lock, and let himself out.

Bulma was left alone, lying naked on a messy bed, and unable to rationalize the things she had just done yet again, she stared sightlessly at the ceiling, uncaring when she felt her tears start to flow.

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	3. Cherished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma observes Vegeta’s rising influence on the soldiers, making her see the ruler that he would eventually become. Meanwhile, Goku is assigned to leave on a week-long mission, and Vegeta uses this time to make his intentions known to Bulma.  
> Day 3: Beads; for the October 2018 / Fall 2018 Vegebul Smutfest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so late for this prompt, and I am so sorry! I had some unforeseen RL circumstances that I had to deal with, so I was just able to finish this now. I do hope it will be worth the wait!  
> Enjoy, and as usual, your feedback would be greatly appreciated!

“No! Why do _you_ have to go? Find someone else!”

Goku sighs in the face of Bulma’s misplaced ire, and he raises a hand to scratch agitatedly at the back of his head.

“Your father trusts me, Bulma. He wants me to be the one to investigate the breach,” he said. “Besides, I’ve gone on these week-long security trips before, and I always came back alright!”

“This is not the same thing!” she stamped her foot in protest, glaring at the small baggage that was already stuffed with his clothes, sitting innocently on his bed. “It could be Frieza’s men! They are powerful, you could get _killed!”_

“It’s gonna be fine, Bulma!” Goku says gently, placing his hands on her shoulders as if to hold her steady. “I am the strongest man among our forces, and whoever they are, I can take ‘em! Also, if I can’t handle them, no one else can!”

“The strongest man on this planet right now is _Vegeta,_ ” she hissed, spitting the name out as if it left traces of poison on her tongue. “Why don’t you send _him_ instead?”

Goku’s brows furrowed, and he clucked softly in slight chastisement. “Be reasonable, Bulma. He may be our ally, but he is not really one of us. Between him and me, who do you think would have the best interests of Capsura at heart?”

Bulma paused, as something in Goku’s tone held a hint of something foreign, something she had never before heard from him.

“Do you… do you think he would betray us, Goku?” she whispered as she backed away from his touch, alarm clear in her tone.

Goku shook his head. “I don’t think so, and definitely not on purpose. But see,” he paused, as if carefully mulling over his next words.

“What? What are you trying to tell me?”

Goku chuckled, the sardonic nature of the sound sending a chill through Bulma.

It just seemed so… out of place… on her normally-sincere husband.

“I just think,” he began, “that he’s hiding something.”

Bulma paled, her guilty conscience immediately assuming that the secret was _her._

“Why do you think that?” she asked, working to keep her voice steady as their affair – if one could call it that – came to mind.

“He’s just really evasive about some things. Though I guess I couldn’t blame him. He had a tough time, growing up in the middle of a war.”

“Oh,” she said, mind drawing a fierce blank.

“Also,” he asked, “Did you guys get into a fight or something?”

At this, her blood truly ran cold.

“What? Why… Did he… did he say anything?” she asked, the tips of her fingers going numb as her whole body went into something akin to shock.

Goku shrugged. “I dunno. I had thought that you two were friends, because he was the one who showed your inventions off to King Briefs. So it just seems strange to me that whenever I mention you, he kinda tenses up.”

“Does he, now?” she asked, unable to meet Goku’s eyes.

“Yeah. The other day, when I mentioned you because of the gravity cuffs, he nearly bit my head off,” Goku answered. “But yesterday, when we asked someone to tell you that I won’t be home, he volunteered real quickly. So I thought that maybe he wanted to talk to you or something.”

Goku was miles off on what was going on between her and Vegeta, but it greatly bothered Bulma that he had noticed _anything_ at all.

“I’m sure he was just being moody,” Bulma said evasively. “He certainly seems like the type. Hot and cold, don’t you think so?”

And he truly, truly was.

She thought back on the previous sinful night, when Vegeta was as scorching as living flames as he seduced her.

She also remembered well, how he could be colder than ice as he eyed her indifferently when they were in the company of others.

It was a painful contrast, one she knew she could do nothing about, as what she had with him was a shameful secret, and not a beautiful love affair that could be flaunted to the skies.

“Yeah, Vegeta could be a bit difficult,” Goku agreed, before he looked contrite at her and asked, “So are we alright on my trip, now? Because we leave in an hour.”

Bulma sighed, defeated. “What can I do, Goku? Whether I like it or not, you have to leave, don’t you?”

He nodded. “I will only be gone for a week, Bulma. I doubt anything huge will happen in that time.”

She nearly winced. “I suppose. What could go wrong in a week?”

Bulma tried to smile at him then, only to frown when she saw a stern look cross his face before he looked away, staring unseeingly over her shoulder.

Her mind screamed in paranoia, warning bells insinuating that he was staring right at her bed behind her, the very same bed where she and Vegeta had fucked uninhibitedly only a few short hours before.

She tried hard not to follow his gaze, terrified that something about her actions would give her secret away, but also horrified of the thought that he would see something, anything, that would somehow magically let him know of all that had happened in their very bedroom.

She startles when Goku moves to hold her upper arm, and she automatically lifts a hand, placing it over his much larger one.

Goku’s touch was always comforting, warm and gentle, a stark contrast from Vegeta’s heated touches that she both craved and hated with similarly passionate degrees.

“Bulma? You’ll tell me if something is bothering you, right? We will always be friends, right?” he asked kindly, and she wasn’t quite sure how she managed to stop herself from bursting into shamed, heavy tears.

“Y-yes,” she choked in misery.

Oh, how she _wished_ she was strong enough, brave enough, to confess to her transgressions.

How she wished she could have just fallen in love with Goku, and he with her, so they could have lived a happily-married life instead of this convoluted lie.

Unfortunately, fate was unkind, and had left her to become a needy woman who was so desperate for validation, that she had let herself fall into Vegeta’s web of tainted desire.

As Goku pulled her close for a soft hug goodbye, the tears discreetly fell from the sides of her eyes…

And by the time he pulled away, she had already treacherously wiped them dry.

8-8-8-8-8

Goku had been gone for a couple of days, and Bulma had resolved to make herself as scarce as possible.

She really needed to stay away from Vegeta.

There was no need for her to be hanging around the battle preparations, as her work was mostly done.

The reproduction of her technology had gone amazingly well, and Dr. Gero’s team of scientists had already furnished a quarter of their troops with the gravity cuffs.

He had also found a way to reverse the gravity effectively, by using Bulma’s original designs for an anti-gravity apparatus, so that the men could possibly lift the gravity of Vegeta-sei from themselves during battle.

They were confident that the Capsuran forces would not be going into war unprepared.

In addition to the gadgets, they had one ace in hand, an invaluable leader who was training their men harder than they have ever trained, strangely inspiring them to become better soldiers for their planet.

Prince Vegeta, armed with his awe-inspiring power and the full support of the King, was a true monarch.  His influence was clear in how he effortlessly led the men and molded them into powerful fighters, one day at a time.

He pulled them into his grasp easily, and their shock at his strength translated into respect. He was harsh, brutal, but his skill was undeniable, his expertise and mastery of the art of war like a hypnotic beacon to the men who wanted to learn how to become true warriors.

The prince was eloquent, charismatic; a natural leader, and above all, even the men could see that the hardened Saiyan hid a layer of concern beneath his fury, and in him, they all found a model, a man to idolize and emulate.

Goku had originally been leading the training, but the King had shifted the bigger responsibilities to Vegeta as the men’s admiration of him became increasingly apparent.

In the short time since his arrival, he had already commanded their loyalties. At the rate he was going, Vegeta could lead their men to their very deaths, and the Capsuran soldiers would gladly follow.

It concerned Bulma, how astonishingly good he was at it, at being a ruler and a warrior, and against her common sense, she found his gumption irresistible.

Deep in her heart, she knew, with complete conviction, that Vegeta would make an _incredible_ King.

At the moment, she was holed up in her lab again, tinkering with a secondary gravity cuff prototype that was meant to surround the wearer with a force field.

If the first cuffs were intended to help them have the skills to launch a successful offense, this new one was for defense.

The idea came to her after the first time she had seen Vegeta train. He had allowed her and the troops to observe him as he demonstrated what he called “ki-based attacks”.

They were collectively astounded when he proceeded to gather an overwhelming amount of energy into the palms of his hands, and with a rather relaxed smirk, he shot the blast out of his palms, easily destroying a small mountain.

Only Goku seemed unsurprised, as he had seen it before, and even had the ability to some extent.

Vegeta had turned to them, and in a grave voice, had announced that all the foes that they would be facing had the same powers.

It was on that day that Vegeta had shown them how serious the war had gotten, and had parted with a challenge…

8-8-8-8-8

_It seemed as if the whole planet had fallen into dead silence as Vegeta turned to regard the gathered crowd. He looked stern, determined, and his eyes burned with dark passion, the lust for battle shining vividly in his eyes._

_“The war is not for the weak of mind, body and heart,” he spoke his voice echoing ominously in the deafening quiet. “I came to this planet to ask for your support. However, the fight does not need to be burdened by those who are afraid to become true warriors. And I will be the first to admit that yes… the war is a terrifying thing.”_

_Vegeta paused, mouth in a firm line, before he started again. “Thus, I will think no less of anyone who decides to forfeit and not join our forces. However, those who choose to fight, I can assure you no less than the utmost glory.”_

_He turned to Goku. “Your general, Kakarot, is a half Saiyan, and has seen the rigors of battle. He lived, and is now a hero. Those who wish to be part of the war, I ask you to approach Kakarot to enlist. Those who do so, I, the Crown Prince of Vegeta-sei, shall personally train. And once I am done with you, you will be amongst the most powerful Capsurans to ever tread the galaxy.”_

8-8-8-8-8

Instead of backing out, all the members of their military had clamored to join, and with them, were several other able-bodied men.

It seemed that the promise of glory was too great to pass up, and in a planet where machismo reigned Supreme, not a single man was willing to stand by while his friends and family strive for power.

Seeing the determination of their men, Bulma had immediately set to work… But she had been distracted by several other things, and had at one point, almost given up.

However, now that two of her inventions were being hailed as the brilliant advances that they were, she started again, remembering how these could keep the Capsuran forces safe.

They did not have the ki-blasts that the Saiyans and Frieza’s forces had at their disposal, so they would need all the help they could get.

A soft knock at the door of her lab had her turning momentarily from her invention, but as she did, the small drill that she had been using moved a bit too far, wounding the side of her left thumb.

She gasped in pain, dropping the gadgets as she stood up in surprise, cradling her hand to her chest as she bit her lower lip to keep from either crying or swearing outright.

“Bulma?”

She had barely a second to look up before the doors had burst open, revealing the man who had called out her name.

Vegeta marched towards her, his gloved hands in fists as his eyes fell on her with laser-like focus, zeroing in on the hand that she had clutched against her chest.

“You are bleeding,” he said, unceremoniously reaching forward to grab her arm and pull her injured hand towards himself.

Her eyes took in the slightly fraying condition of his blue shirt and pants, as he was once again wearing only those along with his simple armor, his feet encased in his usual white boots.

She couldn’t speak as he inspected her hand, watching mutely as he reached into his armor to pull out what looked like a small, silver bottle.

He opened it with a click, dropping a tiny bit of its watery green contents right onto her wound.

“Ah!” she hissed as the wound stung, and she tried to pull her hand away, only to be met with the resistance of his much stronger grip.

She began to protest, “Vege-”

“This liquid is derived from the same herbs that we use in our healing tanks back on Vegeta-sei,” he said, stuffing the bottle back into his armor before he finally released her hand. “The wound should be gone in an hour.”

Unconvinced, she glanced at her hand, only for her eyes to bug out in disbelief as she watched her wound begin to close rapidly right before her eyes.

“Wha- this- _how?”_ she sputtered, lifting her hand up to her face.

A sudden bark of laughter from Vegeta yanked her from her amazement, and she stared, half-annoyed and half-amused as he threw his head back in his glee.

He was laughing, eyes closed as he guffawed at her expense, and seeing the usually stern man look so happy finally pulled a few chuckles from Bulma.

“I am glad that you find me so funny,” she said, “But would you please be _so kind_ and share the joke with me?”

“You- your eyes were crossing, you were so stunned by the medicine,” he said as he finally straightened, that mischievously amused sparkle still lighting up his dark gaze. “You looked more shocked now than you did when you first saw my ki-blasts.”

She shook her head with a grin, helplessly thinking about how futile her decision to stay away from Vegeta was if he kept seeking her out.

“Well, I suppose I should first, thank you for the medicine,” she said. “Though I wouldn’t have needed it in the first place if you hadn’t wrecked my concentration.”

“What were you working on, anyway?” he asked, looking down at the table where her unfinished cuffs sat. “Are you trying to upgrade the gravity cuffs?”

She shook her head. “These are different. These cuffs are for defense.”

“Explain.”

She beamed as she started talking about her invention to the only person who had ever truly noticed her brilliance, going deeper and deeper into her explanations when she saw how he seemed to be so genuinely interested in her words.

He nodded and asked questions, and all the while, she beamed as she watched an excited glow take over his face the more they discussed her plans.

“So, you say,” he clarified, “That if you infuse it with enough of this element, you should be able to form a force field that will protect the user as it repels attacks from the outside?

“The ki-blasts, especially,” she agreed. “I am trying to find a way to make it work on the same wavelength as the gravity cuffs, so it could be installed as an add-on instead of building another set of cuffs.”

“That would be preferable. After all, with the increased gravity on Vegeta-sei, the less our men have to carry, the better.”

She looked at him curiously, taking note of his words…

Her silence was telling, and Vegeta had then looked down, raising a brow in response to her inquisitive stare.

“What?” he asked, shifting rather uncomfortably.

“You said… _our_ men,” she observed. “You have just claimed to be part of the Capsuran forces.”

“That I _am,”_ he answered. “As much as I now consider the Capsurans as part of the Saiyan militia. These men have trained under my instructions, and I shall be responsible for every single one of them. If I had a say at all, not one of them would return with even a bruise. I look after my men. These Capsuran soldiers are _my men._ ”

She smiled slightly at his words. “That’s very noble of you.”

“Nobility has little to do with it,” he answered. “I lead these men. And I shall lead them to victory.”

He spoke with conviction, the determination of a man who will go through hell and back to protect his subjects, and Bulma once again remembered the melancholy prince who spoke of his people while he stood in the moonlight filtering through her bedroom window.

Vegeta loved his planet, enough to personally put himself on the line to gather allied forces, trusting in the vague hope that they will soon defeat their conqueror and flourish as a society once again.

She looked up at his face when he stepped closer, and she swallowed back a gasp as she watched his lips slowly form a reluctant smile.

“With my last breath, I shall ensure their safety. We _will_ win,” he said, assuredly. “Our men will make it out alive. I swear this to you, Bulma.”

Something about the way he spoke her name was so uncharacteristically soft, and it took everything within her to stop herself from just reaching out to him, holding him, as every fiber of her being yearned to do so.

This was getting dangerous, Bulma knew.

She knew that she should put an end to whatever it was that they had going, but even while she understood this, she felt a huge part of herself rebel fiercely.

She wanted Vegeta.

She could no longer keep denying it.

She wanted him so _badly_.

But she needed to stay away…

She was about to take a step back, to move away from his encompassing presence, when she felt his hand reach up to hold her shoulder.

She kept her eyes on his face, willing her mouth to speak, to ask him to unhand her…

“I have… found a small glade, a few miles away from the palace grounds,” he began, and Bulma felt her heart skip a beat.

“ _Will he really… is he going to ask me to…_ ” she wondered.

“And I shall have a few hours tomorrow where I will be dreadfully bored,” he continued, and she flustered as she noted the growing blush on the apples of his cheeks.

“Would you… will you… accompany me, to allay my boredom?” he asked.

“ _No!_ ” her mind screamed. “ _No! I must deny him. I must refuse! I must-_ ”

“When?” she asked, instead.

He brightened visibly, and she saw the light of the sun shine through his eyes as he said, “Before dark, an hour before twilight. I can… I can fly us there. I believe you have never flown before?”

“Where shall we meet?” Bulma asked, while internally, she flogged herself for her weakness.

“Here. I can cook, for dinner. You enjoyed the food we shared in the kitchens, if I remember correctly?”

She nodded, and in spite of herself, she felt excited, _giddy,_ at the prospect of this trip.

“I shall see you tomorrow, then,” he said, turning away from her quickly, but not quickly enough for her to miss the dark flush that now coated his face.

She giggled softly, forcibly pushing away the guilt that clawed harshly at her chest.

Whatever repercussions there may eventually be, she was thrilled, and for now, unwilling to deny it.

For it seemed that for the first time, Princess Bulma of Capsura will be going on a date.

8-8-8-8-8

The wind felt divine on her cheeks as Bulma flew, clutched tightly in Vegeta’s arms.

“This is amazing, Vegeta!” she shouted over the whistling gusts.

She heard him laugh, deep and thoroughly entertained. “Yes, this is what it feels like to fly.”

“This is the reason why I wanted to make the anti-gravity cuffs!”

“I know,” he replied, lowering his head to her ear. “I remember.”

Her heart leapt at both his words and the exhilaration of flight, and Bulma held on, wrapping her arms tighter around him as her heart soared higher than their bodies in flight.

She felt free, uninhibited, happier than she could ever remember being, and she never wanted it to end.

However, the logical part of her knew that it _should_ end, and she did not have the right to be this happy in the embrace of a man other than her husband.

She felt his arms tighten around her, and she threw all her guilt into the air that surrounded them as she relished in his closeness.

A few minutes later, he began to slow down, and she smiled as she looked down at the small patch of land surrounded by a cheerful copse of trees.

They landed softly, and Bulma straightened her simple shirt and blue cotton pants as she watched Vegeta reach into his armor to reveal the Capsule that she had previously given him.  

He was wearing his more formal armor without his cape, along with his long-sleeved blue suit and usual white boots and gloves.

It tickled Bulma to think that he had probably dressed up for her, and she self-consciously smoothed her own attire down as he released the Capsule, revealing an impressive spread of food atop a thick fleece blanket.

There were meats, breads, sweet drinks… but the thing that truly caught her attention, was the large bowl of strawberries that sat in the center of it all.

She looked up at Vegeta in wonder, and she realized that he had caught her gaze, because he coughed slightly into his fist as he spoke.

“I noticed that you favored those red fruits above all others during our meals,” he said, trying to be dismissive, but Bulma saw through the ruse easily as her heart swelled in her chest.

For him to notice such a simple thing…

Before she could get caught up in her emotions, she flashed him a wide grin and promptly sat down on one end of the blanket. “This all looks great, Vegeta! Shall we eat?”

They began eating, and Bulma laughed at his appetite while he teased her about various things. In no time at all, they were done, and after Vegeta had put the leftovers and plates back into the Capsule, Bulma leaned back onto the blanket with a sigh as she rubbed her belly in contentment.

He was also leaning back on his elbows, legs stretched out comfortably before him as they both watched the darkening skies, trading stories of their childhoods, and Bulma laughed as she realized how much silliness a child living in wartime barracks could still get into.

“And this Raditz, you think he is Goku’s cousin?” she asked.

“Yes, for he is the son of General Bardock’s brother. If you ever get to meet him, you will see how they hold some facial similarities,” he answered.

“You basically grew up with him.”

He nodded. “I played a lot of pranks on him, and while I knew he would have loved to retaliate, he could not, as I am far above his station. It did not mean that he never hassled me about it.”

She smiled. “You are very fond of him.”

“He is… a friend,” he replied. “He also got along with Kakarot while he had been on the space station eight years ago. I think he had mostly stayed with him and this one other third class, though her name escapes me.”

Bulma jerked up. “ _Her?”_

She had never heard Goku mention any female Saiyans during his time in the war.

“Yes,” he nodded. “It bothers me that I don’t remember. I think her name was Patatas, but they called her something else. Tatas…? Something that sounds rather lewd on any other context.”

Bulma’s brows furrowed. Something tickled the back of her mind, and as she kept thinking about it…

“Chichi?” she asked.

“Yes! That’s it! Chichi,” he nodded looking back at her. “How did you know?”

“Well, he had told me some stories of his time there,” she mulled, “though he never outright mentioned that Chichi was a _girl_.”

“Why, Princess Bulma,” Vegeta teased, moving so he was on his belly and looking right at her. “Are you jealous?”

“What, of course not,” she waved. “Besides, it would be rather hypocritical of me if I was going to be jealous of _a name,_ when I myself have… this.”

He crawled closer to her, his eyes inquisitive, having lost some of the mischief from their earlier teasing.

“This?” he asked. “What exactly is _this?”_

She straightened, sitting up straight as he did the same.

“This…” she started. “I don’t know, Vegeta.”

“We are two friends taking a break from the rigors of war preparations, are we not?” he asked.

She hesitated. “I… I’m… confused.”

“You should not be,” he answered. “We are… together, are we not?”

“Together,” she spat the word out. “That is a very convenient way to speak of it.”

“We are,” he insisted. “This… you cannot deny that there is something between us.”

“I am not denying anything,” she said. “What we did… twice…”

“I claimed you, twice,” he interrupted. “And I regret nothing.”

“But I should!” she exclaimed, turning to face him, hands fisted as she shook. “I am married to Goku. I am his wife-”

“Not in the deepest essence of the word!” Vegeta argued. “You are married on documents. But…”

He cut himself off, and Bulma was intrigued by how he suddenly shifted, his cheeks flushing, and she could make out the strange brightness of his eyes in the rapidly deepening darkness.

“But, what?”

“You are not truly _his,_ are you? As he is not truly yours,” he whispered.

She sighed, pained, and she looked away from him to watch her fists. “What does that mean, Vegeta?”

“What it means,” he said, breaths turning harsh as his voice lowered. “Is that _you_ are _mine.”_

Bulma gasped when he suddenly grabbed her, and without warning, covered her trembling lips with his own.

She immediately moaned in compliance, feeling her body react to his, deeply, _soul-deep_ , and as she felt a single tear drip from the side of her eye, she wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him as she kissed him back.

His hands felt like heaven against her body, and she felt him grasp her waist with one hand while the other floated to her cheek, holding her face to him as he intensified their connection, kissing her as if every part of him truly yearned for nothing but her.

 As she yearned for nothing but him…

Vegeta gently laid her down on her back as he moved over her, his warm body shielding her from the harsh coldness of the outdoor air, and she gasped as he moved to palm her breast, softly squeezing it until her nipples hardened into peaks that rubbed almost painfully against her clothing.

 As if heeding her hurt, he pulled back, only to suggestively pluck at the bottom of her shirt, very slowly sliding it up her torso until she leaned up to help him remove the article.

She unclasped the thin support on her breasts, and removed it, watching his eyes move to trace over the curves of her waist and the fullness of her breasts.

The earth was their bed, the rough blanket their only sheets, as he swooped down to capture her lips once again, his hands reverently caressing her body as she found her hands anxiously reaching up to pull at the edges of his armor.

He complied with her unspoken request, pulling his armor off quickly, parting his lips from hers only long enough to harshly swing the armor and shirt off his person.

His hands palmed her buttocks through her thin pants, before he hurriedly pulled them down along with her underwear.

She had barely any time to react before she felt his fingers enter her, and she gasped in surprise as he slid in easily, her body responding with a gush of her liquid desire to help him move within her.

Feeling brave, Bulma reached down, past the waistband of his pants, to slip her questing fingers down to gently wrap around his hardness.

He groaned, long and low against her mouth, and he pulled back, his eyes reflecting awe as she experimentally rubbed against him, pumping her fist up and down his turgid length.

She watched his eyes narrow in desire as he moved his fingers more urgently within her, his thumb teasingly massaging the nub of her desire, that tiny spot that made her lose her mind.

“Ah! Oh… yes, Vegeta,” she whispered fervently as he answered with her own name on his lips.

He was thrusting against her hand now, moaning into her, and she relished in the sounds of desire that she pulled from him, the thoughts of his pleasure spurring her on, augmenting the delicious sensations that he coaxed from her core.

The white-hot flash of her release blinded her, and as she shook heavily from her sudden orgasm, Vegeta pulled her hand away from him as he shoved his pants down to his knees, moving to kneel between her legs as he spread her open for him, only him…

“Bulma,” he rasped as she felt the tip of his hardness rest upon her lower lips, and she moaned in delight as he moved against her, teasing her with the round fullness of his engorged end.

He began to push in, and right before she closed her eyes in rhapsody, hands grabbing helplessly at the blanket, she saw his eyes narrow in on her face, staring at her as he claimed her once more.

“Vegeta,” she whispered reverently as she felt him enter her, making her open her eyes.

He was still looking at her, focused on her lips, as he began to move within her, thrusting in and out of her at a slow, torturous pace.

He felt beautiful, sinfully delicious, and she rolled her hips against him as the pleasure coursed through her, radiating from where they were joined and all the way to the tips of her fingers.

Bulma wrapped her legs around him as he surged, resting her ankles on his lower back as he lifted her hips up to him, grinding fiercely into her while he gazed lustfully into her eyes.

“Vegeta,” she sighed, lifting her arms up to him, asking him to move closer…

She wanted to feel all of him…

He did as she asked, wrapping his arms around her as he moved even harder, his chest rubbing sensually against her breasts, and as she cried his name out to the skies, he held her closer, tighter…

As if she was truly his alone, and he never wanted to let go…

Her heart pounded loudly against her ears as she felt her pleasure begin to crest, as the steady rhythm of their movements began to falter…

With a loud, keening wail, she let go, shaking violently against him as he too lost control, and together, they bathed in their ecstasy, desperately holding on to each other.

For propriety be damned, Bulma needed Vegeta…

And as he murmured into her ear, words in a foreign tongue, as he carefully kissed her cheeks, she understood that he needed her, as well.

8-8-8-8-8

It was almost dawn as they returned to the palace, and Vegeta surprised Bulma when he unabashedly dropped down into her wing of the castle.

They snuck around like thieves until they arrived at her bedroom, where she quietly allowed him entrance, giggling like a child while they snaked in through the doorway.

She gave him one chaste kiss on the cheek as they stood before the closed doors, knowing that it was time to bid him goodbye for the night.

Yet, she saw him hesitate, and she gave him a small, reluctant smile, as she asked, “Hey, are you alright?”

He nodded, and she saw his features stern in resolution while he reached into his armor.

He closed his fists around whatever it was that he had pulled out, and before she could ask, he spoke.

“Do you remember… when we spoke of the jewels of Vegeta-sei, and you said that you had always wanted to wear our jewelry, and I told you that I hold a few pieces in high regard?”

She nodded, curious.

He hesitated slightly again, before he held his hand out…

Bulma gasped at the sight of the object in his large hand.

A string of small, shiny round beads, strung together to form a necklace, glowed enchantingly on his palm.

She began to reach out to touch them, enthralled by their brilliant beauty, before she snatched her hand back, looking into his face in question.

“Why are you showing me this?” she asked.

He gulped. “Because I am offering this to you.”

She gasped, staring once again at the beautiful jewelry.

The round beads were a luminous white, with small specks of a million other colors running beneath the surface, and were connected by a thin golden thread.

“You couldn’t possibly be serious?” she asked, even as her heart leapt in giddiness.

“I am,” he answered, unclasping it before holding the beads out to her.

“Vegeta…”

“This is one of the items that I truly value. This necklace was part of my mother’s treasury…” he said. “And I want you to have it.”

She gulped, wanting to cry as the gravity of his gift fell upon her. “Are you sure?”

“I am positive,” she said, moving towards her, standing behind her to clasp the beads at her nape.

She pulled her hair up, and as he closed the clasp, Bulma looked down to stare, entranced, by the beautiful sheen of the one-of-a-kind jewelry.

“These are… beyond beautiful,” she whispered, the awe apparent in her tone. “Thank you, Vegeta.”

He smiled then, that sincere, brilliant smile that he seemed to reserve just for her.

“You deserve no less,” he said, running a finger down the beads resting on her chest.

Before she could think of a reply, he had turned away from her, slinking out the door, and into the darkness of the night once again.

And as Bulma washed herself, then later laid upon her bed to sleep, she possessively held on to her cherished beads, refusing to part with them, even for a night.

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	4. Distressed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma is faced with a difficult choice, and she needs to choose with her mind, and not with her heart. However… is it too late to do the right thing?  
> Day 4: Cuckold; For the October 2018 / Fall 2018 @tpthvegebulsmutfest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smutfest is over and I am still on Day 4, LOL! So sorry for the delay, but as usual, work and real life have put a dent on my fun and fanfic time. How dare they.  
> Anyway, I do hope this extra long chapter makes up for the long wait! Enjoy!

When Bulma awoke on the sixth day after Goku’s departure, she had the feeling that something was not quite _right_.

She clutched at the thin string of beads resting on her chest as she got up, the perfect roundness of the precious gemstones a lofty reassurance that all was well.

Still, something nagged at her, a strange sensation of unease, and try as she might, the feeling followed her all the way to the breakfast table, where she sat primly across from Vegeta.

The King and Queen were already eating as she arrived, and as her mother glanced at her with a smile, Bulma resisted the urge to stroke her necklace through the cloth of her high-necked green dress.

It pained her to have to hide the beautiful token, but she knew that she could not let anyone know of it, because it would arouse suspicion for her to be seen with an obviously expensive new necklace from Planet Vegeta.

It would not do at all, for anyone to know of her immoral dalliances with her lover.

They had not been together carnally since their night in the forest, but Vegeta had been discreetly shadowing her, always a few steps behind her, since then.

Bulma had resigned herself to her shame, of being a guilty accomplice to this sacrilege, since she knew that fighting it would be futile.

Vegeta was not her husband. She had no business being with him.

Yet, she wanted only him.

It was her conscience’s slight comfort, knowing that she would not forever be in this affair with him, since he will go back to his planet very soon to finish the war, and after that, he would have no cause to return to Capsura.

He would have no reason to return to _her._

The cycle of sin will soon be over.

However, it was also the cause of her greatest pain, forcing herself to understand that this _relationship_ was forever doomed to stay in the shadows, destined to be over before it could truly begin.

Her heart bled at the thought of losing Vegeta, while her mind screamed that she never really _had_ him, in the first place…

She belonged to Goku. Her husband.

As Vegeta would someday belong to whomever he chose to become his Queen.

Bulma could imagine a faceless Saiyan woman, glorious and powerful, with dark hair that rose and fell like a churning waterfall above her head. She would sit beside Vegeta, reigning with him on a throne carved by the bones of their fallen enemies, and she would be fearsome, the perfect mate to a wise King.

And at night, the Saiyan Queen would lay beside him, her arms wrapped around his body as his fingers combed gently through her hair, before he would turn, granting her a taste of his lips while his hands began to flit across her skin, delving into her core…

Bulma nearly burst into tears, the pain of the very thought of him with another woman confusing and angering her.

She turned back to her meal and ended up stabbing her meat a little too harshly, chewing it as if it had personally offended her.

Vegeta looked up at her, a brow raised in question while she did her best to avoid his gaze.

After all… What could she tell him, if he asked?

That she was in a foul mood because she was prematurely jealous of the woman who would be his true wife sometime in the future?

That she was seething in envy of the woman who would someday have the full rights to his caresses, while she herself languished, unloved and unwanted, in her sham of a marriage?

She was having trouble admitting it, even to herself.  

In an attempt to not draw further attention to herself, she quickly finished her meal, before she stood up with a small curtsy and headed back into her lab.

The breakthrough that she needed for her force field cuffs was just a few screws away, she can _feel_ it, and she absolutely needed to hurry because the troops were set to depart for the war in only two weeks.

She had mere days left to perfect her invention, as the cuffs needed to be fully functional and distributed to the troops in two weeks.

She had two weeks left.

She had two weeks left, with Vegeta.

Shaking her head free of her depressing thoughts, she changed into her work attire, sat down on her work table, picked up her nearly-completed prototype, and got to work.

8-8-8-8-8

“Mind telling me what has you in such an irritable state?”

Bulma whipped her head up in surprise when she heard Vegeta’s voice, followed by his light footsteps, echo within her quiet work area.

“Oh, hello, Vegeta,” she greeted tiredly, squinting out the small window to check for the sunlight streaming in.

She was surprised to find that the sun was not as bright as she had thought it would be.

“ _I must not have been here long, then,”_ she thought, only to pause in confusion when she noticed Vegeta’s sweaty countenance and soiled shoes.

“Hello yourself, woman,” he growled, standing before her, arms crossed. “Did you seriously stay here the entire day, without a single break?”

She blinked at him in confusion while he glared at her, until he finally relented, brows furrowing further in concern.

“You have been holed up here the entire day. The sun has begun to set,” he said.

“Ah. So that’s why the sun was so low,” she muttered.

Vegeta snarled. “What, did you think the sun was just about to _rise?”_

“Actually, yes. I was surprised. I didn’t realize that I missed lunch.”

“You- you didn’t- _what?_ ” he sputtered disbelievingly. “Woman, what had you so fully preoccupied that you missed the entire damn _day_?”

Bulma brightened. “It’s great that you asked, Vegeta, because I think I finally finished!”

“Finished what?!”

“The cuffs!” she beamed proudly, holding the two small rotors that would serve as the force field extension. “I think I finally made a functional force field! I just need to test it out, then we – _we,_ because I need you to show this to my father like you did with the other stuff – can have it installed into the existing cuffs!”

Vegeta walked closer to her, curiously eying the tiny machines. “These are supposed to provide the wearers with a force field, am I correct?”

She nodded. “It took me a while to finish it, but I think I nailed this! I just need to test it out!”

Vegeta opened his mouth, and Bulma, knowing that he was about to volunteer as her lab rat once again, cut him off.

“And no, Vegeta, I can’t test this on you, because I installed a fail safe on this,” she said.

“Explain.”

“Remember how the cuffs on the soldiers are capped at twenty times gravity?” she asked. “Well, the cap on this is based on power levels. Like, your ki.”

He frowned, not following, and Bulma continued her explanation.

“You mentioned before that the power levels of Capsurans read at a very low number,” she said. “Well, what I did was install a feature that makes these extensions explode when a person with a high power level attempts to use it. This would ensure that, should one of our men fall into the enemy’s hands, Frieza and his team cannot use this on themselves because the cuffs would self-destruct if they try.”

Vegeta’s eyes widened. “That means that this technology could not be used by our enemies, because with their power levels, the cuffs would explode if they attempt to.”

Bulma nodded. “I am just about to work on a special set for you and Goku, ones that don’t have a ki limit. But I needed to finish these first because if my father agrees to use them, the scientists would need time to mass-produce these. I, meanwhile, will work on the two sets of extensions for you and Goku.”

He stared at her silently, and Bulma began to blush under his unrelenting stare.

She pushed her hair back from her face, nervously chewing on her lower lip, as she asked, “Is something wrong?”

Vegeta started, as if he himself had been lost in a sort of daze, and he shook his head as he barked out a short chuckle.

“There is absolutely nothing wrong,” he said. “I am just… marveling at your genius. That you had come up with these devices within the span of a few days, all by yourself… it is frankly incredible, Bulma.”

She flushed a deeper shade of red at his compliment, even more flustered at the knowledge that Vegeta said those words because he _meant_ them, and not simply for show.

“Th-thank you,” she said “But we still need to test them out.”

“And how do you propose we do that, if I cannot use them?”

“On me!” she said, proudly pulling out one of Dr. Gero’s cuff duplications that she had taken for herself.

She was about to put the cuffs on when Vegeta, eyes wide, suddenly stepped forward to hold her hands back from clasping the cuffs on herself.

“No! Are you insane?” he exclaimed. “You cannot possibly intend to use the gravity cuffs on yourself!”

“Don’t be silly!” Bulma laughed. “I’ve set these particular cuffs to only be on 1.5 gravity, just enough to activate it. See?”

Unconvinced, Vegeta peered down to the dial to check the number, and slightly placated, he stepped back as she fastened the cuffs.

“Alright then,” he said. “After you turn these things on, then what?”

She beamed up at him. “Then, you fire a ki-blast at me.”

“Absolutely not!” he yelled in indignation. “No! Do you have any idea, the amount of damage that even my weakest ki-blast can do to your weak, frail body, you insolent woman?”

“Relax!” she said cheekily, pressing on the button to activate the cuffs.

The cuffs started to thrum, and in a moment, Bulma felt the slight tug of the slightly increased gravity as it began to weigh down on her thin clothing.

At the same time, she watched in awe as a reddish, translucent light began to envelope her body from head to toe. She lifted her hands to watch them a bit closer, eyes wide as she thought of how, by the looks of things, her experiment seemed to be a success.

“Relax?!” Vegeta was still yelling. “Woman, I could _kill_ you!”

“You won’t hurt me, Vegeta!” she answered happily, excitedly, as the warm glow enveloped her, and she could feel the force field pulsing exuberantly against her skin. “The force field will protect me!”

“And if it fails?”

“It won’t fail,” she said. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Bulma, you are brilliant,” he answered. “I have little doubt that these will work. But on the off-chance of a failure, I refuse to be responsible for hurting you.”

“Vegeta,” she said, clasping her hands together as if in prayer. “You can just aim at my leg or something.”

“I. Will. Not. Blast. You.”

“Please?” she asked again. “I need to know if this works. Also…”

She smiled widely at him as he scowled darkly at her, and spoke again. “As much as you believe in my work, I believe in your power. I know that you will not hurt me, not even by accident.”

He growled at her, taking another look at the force field, before he sighed in frustration.

“Extend your arm,” he finally said, making Bulma clap happily.

“Thank you, Vegeta!” she said.

“Do it before I change my mind!”

She walked a few paces away from him and extended her arm sideward, looking expectantly up at him.

She watched as Vegeta held up a single finger, gathering up a small bit of blue energy on a tiny point atop the tip.

With baited breath, she waited as he reluctant pointed it at her, aiming for the furthest possible point on the very tip of her own extended hand.

“Fire it, Vegeta!” she egged on.

He snarled, and with clear hesitation in his eyes, he released the blast.

The tiny point sped towards her, and in spite of the urge to close her eyes as a smidgeon of fright crept through her, Bulma kept her eyes open so she could see…

The blast hit the very tips of her fingers…

…where it quickly dissipated into nothing but colored smoke.

“It… it worked!” she exclaimed, just as Vegeta started laughing, his face displaying a mixture of relief and awe at what they had just witnessed.

“It did! This is amazing, Bulma!”

“Yes! Hit me again!” she said, keeping her hand extended. “A slightly stronger blast, this time!”

He gathered up a slightly larger ball of energy, and when that too, dissipated upon touching the force field, Vegeta laughed, loud and jubilant.

“You brilliant, brilliant woman!” he said, running up to her to stare at the force field up close. “No one has ever managed to repel a ki blast with such a shield!”

“Vegeta, I’m so happy!” she said, powering the force field down before she threw herself at him, hugging his neck as they both laughed triumphantly.

“You should be! You should be incredibly proud of yourself!” he said to her as she jumped back to look at the cuff extensions again.

“We need to show these to my father.”

“Yes, we do. And Bulma,” he said, “You need to find yourself better facilities where you can fully exert your mind. If you could accomplish this much with such limited resources, imagine what you could invent with a full crew of scientists!”

Bulma stared into his eyes, brightened by his exuberance, and she felt her heart leap at the concern that she found alongside his excitement.

She cleared her throat with a smile before she responded, “Vegeta, we both know that’s not going to be possible.”

“And why not?” he asked. “I will speak of it to your father. He needs to assist you. You can accomplish much for your people. You-”

“Vegeta, please,” she said with a soft smile. “It would be pointless. He is indulging me now, just because the inventions were found useful for the current issues. I am just enjoying the limelight for now, but as soon as this is all over, I will just go back to being that strange princess who is always covered in machine fluid.”

He frowned very deeply at that. “That would be a ridiculous waste of your skills, and furthermore, it is unfair to you and to Capsura. There is much you can contribute-”

“And nothing that would interest them,” she interrupted. “After you leave and this war is won, things will go back to normal. And I am alright with that.”

“No, you are not.”

Bulma staggered back slightly at the vehemence in his tone, at the anger that she spied in the edges of his eyes.

“You are not alright. This,” he gestured to the room, “is your life. It is what you want to do. You were meant to be an inventor, and it is what you should become.”

“But I can’t fight my fate, Vegeta,” she said, and something in Bulma told her that Vegeta had just tread onto uncharted territories, feeding her frustrations while he himself rebelled against what she had always loathed about her life.

She had always, always hated being underrated and unappreciated.

Bulma had always hated being stranded and confined.

“It is what it is, and there is nothing I can do about it,” she continued. “I am a princess. That entails being here to provide the heir that will be the next ruler of Capsura. And I should be content with that.”

“And yet, we both know that you are not,” he hissed. “Can you honestly tell me that you can gladly go back to being a silent inventor whose greatest breakthroughs can never see the light of day? Are you going to attempt to tell me that you are willing to waste your potential in this unfortunate excuse of a laboratory?”

“There is nothing wrong with the ways things are, I-”

“I can tell that these last few weeks have been the _first_ time that you have ever truly been happy,” he insisted. “The first time you have ever shown anyone who you truly are, and what you can accomplish.”

She gaped, trying to come up with something to argue her point again, when his next words froze her blood into ice.

“This is what it is like, to truly _live_. And now that you’ve had a taste of it, we both know that you want to always feel this way. To be uninhibited, and to be able to indulge in what you truly want for yourself, unrestrained by your peaceful but backward society.”

Something in the way he looked intently into her eyes as he spoke, in the way his fists clenched mere inches away from her shoulders as if trying not to touch her, told her that he was now speaking of things other than her inventions, and she was speechless as he painfully pinpointed the exact things that she had begun to realize, herself.

“Bulma… you are more than just an ordinary woman,” he said. “You have something incredible, the mind of someone who can change the _universe_. You cannot simply let yourself waste away…”

“How do you suggest I change things, Vegeta?” she asked harshly, feeling indignation bubble up in her as her own frustrations mounted in response. “What should I do? Go out there and stick my work up my father’s face?”

He seemed to soften slightly at that, and his next words shocked Bulma more than anything he had ever said to her before.

“Let me help you.”

She gaped in open astonishment as she watched him shift uncomfortably, his eyes straying momentarily to the beads that he could see peaking above her neckline.

Hesitantly, he lifted his hands to gently hold her shoulders.

“Let me help you become the inventor that you should become,” he continued. “I will… I will support you. The Saiyans will support you.”

“Vegeta,” she whispered. “What are you trying to say?”

“After the war…” he said, his voice roughened by his determination. “Bulma, come with me.”

“With you…?” she gasped.

“To Vegeta-sei,” he said, as if to clarify, even though Bulma already knew what he meant while a part of her denied the implications.

“To… to your planet?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “My people will worship your mind. My father, the King, will provide you with everything you need. You will have all of our technology at your whim.”

“Vegeta-” she said, fighting back the tears that threatened to burst out of her eyes. “I can’t. Capsura is my home-”

“You need to live your life, Bulma!”

“My husband is _here._ ”

“Then bring him with you, I do not care-”

“I can’t leave Capsura, Vegeta!” she exclaimed, lifting her hands to hold his, pushing back from his grasp.

He released her, watching as Bulma wrapped her arms around herself, trying hard to compose herself as the tears finally fell, her head and heart overwhelmed by what Vegeta had just asked her to do.

“I… I can’t do what you are suggesting, Vegeta,” she said, her eyes begging him to understand. “I… I am the Heiress to this planet. My life... My life is here. As yours is on Vegeta-sei.”

He looked stern even while his eyes reflected his defeat, his shoulders proud even as he slumped ever so slightly.

“Think about it,” he still insisted, turning away from her and walking towards the door.

Before he walked through the exit, however, he glanced back at her over his shoulder, and took a deep breath.

“You… you deserve much, much more than all this,” he said before he shut the door behind him, leaving Bulma to her lonely thoughts.

8-8-8-8-8

The cuff extensions delighted King Trunks, and Vegeta grinned at Bulma as she happily explained the mechanisms to her father.

Dr. Gero was immediately summoned to the dinner room, and with very quick instructions from Bulma, he took the plans and the prototype with him, smiling ear to ear, apparently excited to have new technology to reproduce.

While they continued their meal, Bulma’s mind strayed back to her earlier conversation with Vegeta.

The offer was so, so tempting, but she knew with a hundred percent certainty that it would not be possible for her to leave Capsura.

She could not possibly move to Vegeta-sei!

How would she even survive on a planet whose gravity would make her feel ten times as heavy?

It was all so ridiculous, and yet, it appalled her to realize how much she _wanted_ to.

Yet… what would she even _do_ there?

Just stay holed up in a huge lab, inventing stuff for the Saiyans, while Vegeta went on with his life as the prince?

Stand back as he began to fulfill his royal obligations and found himself a suitable queen?

She shook her head free of her thoughts as she heard her father call her name.

“I’m sorry father, what did you say?” she asked.

“I said, Goku will be back by tomorrow evening,” King Trunks repeated.

“Yes, yes. That he will,” Bulma mused.

“I am sure that Bulma has been missing her dear husband terribly, isn’t that right dear?” the queen interjected.

Vegeta suddenly coughed loudly, and all eyes turned to him, with Bulma feeling slightly amused as she watched him choke slightly on a bite of meat.

He grabbed a glass of water, downing it quickly, before he slammed it down onto the table a little too loudly. He then stood, nodding to the King and Queen in acknowledgement before he moved to walk out of the dining hall.

Bulma hid a smirk as he walked away stiffly. She imagined that, if he was an animal with a tail, it would have been standing on end, bristling in annoyance.

Was he _irritated_ by the thought of her missing her husband?

Bulma didn’t want to get ahead of herself, but his actions spoke louder than his words, words that were usually hissed in a terse tone under his breath.

The fact that Vegeta was possibly bothered by her marriage to Goku, and the memories of their earlier conversation in her lab, were very polarizing thoughts in Bulma’s mind, making her wonder what it was, exactly, that she felt about all this.

She did not want to be a dirty woman, a woman with a sullied relationship with her own husband, but Vegeta’s presence in her life was so painfully poignant that she didn’t really know what to do, how to feel.

She knew, logically, that what she should do was stay away from him.

She never should have let him have her, in the first place.

Yet, since that was a moot point, the best thing that she could do was put a stop to all the madness…

Which was something that she did not really want to do.

Vegeta had shown her what it was like to be wanted… what it was like to be pursued, admired; and shame upon her, but she _never_ wanted it to end.

She wanted to live a life with her hands in his grasp, with his encouragements in her ears. She needed a life wherein she was not just some glorified décor, but a person who was cherished by another.

She paled as she realized that deep down, she was so affected by his earlier words because a deep, dark part of her truly wished to leave Capsura.

Clearing her throat to stop the horrified tears from flowing out of her eyes, Bulma stood up, and with a small curtsy towards her parents, she left the room to head into her chambers.

8-8-8-8-8

The water was warm, and Bulma smiled as she ran her hands through the water, threading her fingers through the bubbles that filled her bathtub.

She thought, after such an emotionally-exhausting day, that she must really deserve a break.

Nude, she stood, dipping her toes into the water before she waded in.

“Ah!” she sighed loudly as she sank in, letting her head stay above the water while she soaked her weary body, laying comfortably within the warmth of the sudsy water.

She closed her eyes, moaning contentedly as she relaxed, and before she realized it, she had drifted off into a light slumber.

The sound of the bathroom door shutting stirred her from sleep, and disoriented, she blinked.

“ _Is Goku back? He’s early,”_ she thought, focusing her lethargic eyes on the large dark form that she saw looming before the door.

She blinked, and the form seemingly morphed before her blurry eyes.

Wait a minute…

Why was he in the bathroom while she was there?

She and Goku had never shared a bath before!

“Wha- What are you doing here, Goku?” she asked in a voice thick with sleep, brows furrowing in confusion when he began to walk closer.

She finally dragged herself from slumber as he approached the tub, and shaking her head to clear it, she noted the dark hair, in the shape of flames, rising fiercely from a sharp widow’s peak.

Widow’s… peak…?

“Vegeta!” she screeched as she finally understood who was before her, and she watched with a huff as the face before her smirked teasingly.

“I was under the impression that Kakarot was quite a bit taller than me,” he joked.

“What are you doing here?!” she demanded, raising her arms to cover her breasts from his leering gaze.

“I sensed your ki inside your chambers, but when I called for you, you did not respond,” he said. “I wanted to see if you were alright.”

“Well, I am quite fine, as you can clearly see!” she said petulantly.

“More than fine. I was not expecting this marvelous view to greet me here,” he said with a smirk.

“Vegeta, I swear to the gods-”

“I am rather concerned however, that you were calling out for another man’s name. Granted, he is your legal husband by your planet’s laws, but I would have thought that you would recognize your lover walking into your bath.”

She was about to respond with her usual brand of venom when she saw him look away from her eyes, for little more than a split second.

He looked rather hurt, if Bulma could read him correctly, and she changed tactics as he sniffed in offense.

“Why, Vegeta… my _lover,_ as you call yourself,” she said jokingly. “Could it be that you are jealous of _my husband?”_

He scoffed. “Why would I be jealous of a man whose wife has been touched by my hands, but not his?”

“Perhaps because _he_ could go home to a sight such as this,” she purred, lifting her hands to show off her bountiful breasts.

He glared at her, even while he took a moment to appreciate the view.

“Being granted a sight of sustenance is for naught if you cannot partake,” he shot back, crossing his arms before his chest.

“I can always offer him a taste-”

“You will do no such thing-”

“Surely my husband has a right to my body-”

“You will do _no such thing,”_ he growled as he turned to pin her with a cold glare. “No one will touch you but _me_ , do you understand?”

She stilled, mouth dropping open in shock as the weight of his words bore down on her mind.

Vegeta was being possessive, and while she loved the attention, she also realized that she was in quite a conundrum; her forbidden lover was apparently _laying claim to her._

And he truly had no right to.

Bulma sobered, trying to hide her distress behind a small smile, as she hurriedly tried to think of something to say.

She took note of his slightly sweaty countenance, and she grinned widely as an idea struck.

He lifted her arms up, a smirk threatening to burst when she saw his eyes fall on her exposed breasts.

“Why don’t you come in and join me in this bath, Vegeta?” she asked, injecting a hint of seduction into her voice. “You’re sweaty, let me help you wash up.”

He looked at her questioningly, before he shrugged, and began to disrobe in front of her.

Bulma tried hard to keep her eyes on his face, but her treacherous eyes darted southwards as he undressed, her gaze needily devouring the incredible physique that was displayed right before her.

She stared, unabashed, at every line and angle of his body, committing the smoothness of his skin and the firmness of his body to memory.

His chest glistened teasingly, his arms wrapped in layers of delicious muscles, his legs thick and strong and powerful, and she fought against the frightful pull of her libido that was begging her to reach forward and just grab him in her hands.

When he was nude before her, he glanced at her face, and what he saw there made him smirk evilly, a naughty glint entering his eyes.

From how hot Bulma’s face felt, she was certain that her cheeks were bright red, and she could do nothing about it as her entire form burned for him after his sensual striptease.

He approached her slowly, the sinewy length of his thighs flexing with his steps, and he raised a foot up to place it into the tub with her.

She scooted backwards as he moved, and he was about to sit facing her when Bulma found her tongue.

“You can… sit here, in front of me,” she said.

Bulma gulped when he nodded, turning so his back was to her, and he slowly sank in, his narrow hips nestled between her soft thighs as he gently leaned back until she wrapped her arms around him, her chin resting on his shoulder.

“This… this feels…” he cleared his throat, “acceptable.”

“Acceptable?” Bulma scoffed. “My breasts are against your back. They are offended by your dismissal.”

Vegeta laughed at that. “Do they have ears, then?”

“They have feelings,” she grinned.

They sat, silent and unmoving, for several minutes, while Bulma went through their situation in her head.

Goku was not due back until the following morning, so she had only this last evening with Vegeta. Perhaps, she should cherish it… Make the most of it…

“Do you want me to wash your back?” she asked, cringing as her words reminded her of every single story she had ever read of any woman with her man.

Such a cliché.

Yet, Vegeta did not seem to mind, as he merely grunted, before he moved forward, letting her have access to the wide expanse of his back.

Bulma trembled lightly as she lifted her hands to cup water into her palms, gently pouring it onto him, and she smiled when she heard him sigh when her fingers began to lazily trace over his caramel skin.

She picked up the soap that she had set beside her earlier on, and as she slowly cleaned his back and moved her hands around to his chest, she felt his muscles contract with her every small caress, every innocent rub on his body.

Bulma had her arms around him as she cleaned him, her soft breasts and stomach pressing against him from behind, her breaths ghosting over the nape of his neck.

She heard his sharp gasp when she ran her pinky over his nipple, and she giggled teasingly before pulling back to pour water over him again.

A naughty smirk spread over her lips when she saw him close his eyes, a relaxed sigh on his lips.

Slowly, carefully, she picked up a dipper that was beside the tub, and she dipped it into the bucket beside her, filling it up with the cold water left there for washing her face after her soak.

Hiding a snicker, she lifted it up…

And with a wide, wicked grin, she poured it over Vegeta’s head, making him nearly jump out of the tub with a start.

“Son of a-” he yelled.

Bulma burst into hysterical laughter, dropping the dipper into the bucket as she doubled over in her glee.

She looked up, and was greeted by the sight of Vegeta standing over her, soaking wet, his usually fiery tresses nearly flattened down onto his head, his widow’s peak gone beneath the hair that had fallen onto his face.

He stared at her, indignation written all over his every tense muscle, and he growled when she just laughed harder instead of cowering in the face of his ire.

“Bitch,” he snarled, and Bulma responded with more laughter, and she began to wheeze, out of breath.

All of a sudden, Vegeta smirked, and she warily looked up when he swooped down.

Faster than she could react, he had reached for the bucket, easily lifting the whole thing with one hand, aiming it at her.

“Vegeta, wait! No-” she barely managed to scream before he had dumped all of the contents of the small bucket onto her.

“Aaaiyeeee!” she hollered when the cold water made contact with her. “Vegeta!”

He apparently found that as hilarious as she had found dumping water on him had been, as he stood over her, shoulders heaving from the force of his guffaws.

“You- you look- haha!” he stuttered as he howled with laughter. “You look like a Yardrat!”

“A what?” she asked as she wiped the cold water from her face, splashing the now lukewarm water from the tub onto her chest to warm up.

“Nothing,” he answered, eyes gleaming in delight, and Bulma found herself laughing again when he knelt down in front of her to dip himself into the tub again.

He shook his head as she smiled and fondly reached forward to push his hair back from his face.

“Silly wench,” he said with a chuckle.

She giggled.

She was about to comment on how he looked like a five-year old when his hair was down on his face, when he did something that made Bulma’s heart stop.

Slowly, hesitantly, Vegeta lifted a hand, reaching towards her to softly caress her cheek.

She stilled as she gazed into his eyes, seeing a deep pool of unspoken feelings brimming in the dark depths, and she held her breath as he kept stroking her face, his fingers so soft and gentle against her that he felt like nothing more than a whisper, a soft hum of emotions ghosting upon her skin.

“You are… enchanting,” he whispered softly, fervently, and Bulma felt her blood rise to meet his touch as she stared, almost not daring to believe that he had spoken.

“Vegeta-”

“You are the most enchanting woman I have ever laid eyes on. Have I ever told you that?”

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, as he continued touching her so, so lovingly, his gaze holding her hostage, while his warmth set her heart free.

“From the first moment that I laid eyes on you…” He spoke again, even softer, and Bulma strained to make his words out.

“What?” she asked. “Vegeta-”

He shook his head, moving closer to her, and much to her surprise, he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as he buried his head in her hair, his lips brushing against the tip of her ear. 

“I need you,” he growled in her ear, and she melted into him as he moved, holding her to him while his mouth found hers, his lips filling her with a hot and aching need that overwhelmed all else.

Bulma sighed while he groaned, the water warm and slick against them as they moved, sliding sinuously against each other as his hands found her waist, grinding against her as much as he could in their limited space.

Soon, her own hands became impatient, and she pressed them against his chest, marveling at the hard planes of muscle beneath his supple skin, at the little goosebumps that rose along his flesh in the wake of her touch.

She was hungry for him, and she bravely pushed her tongue deeper into his mouth, exploring the warm cavern as the kiss became more heated, more eager.

“Bulma,” he hissed against her lips as he pulled away for but a moment, and when his lips fell on her again, she swooned at the raw sensations, her head spinning from the hint of _something_ in his touch that she couldn’t quite understand.

She understood her body, though, and she felt the need for him grow within her, felt her desire overcome her as she clutched him tighter, rising to her knees to slide her heated core against his leg.

It seemed that was the last straw for Vegeta, as he quickly crushed her in his arms as he levitated, pulling them both out of the water to stand before the closed door of the bathroom.

She was so lost in him that she didn’t even register that he had somehow opened the door, before he, with his strong arms around her, impatiently but gently flew them both to land softly on her bed.

They were both soaking wet, and the cool air of her bedroom made her shiver, but he quickly covered her body with his own, taking away the cold as he lent her his burning heat.

“Vegeta,” she sighed against him as he kept kissing her, while his quick yet heavy breaths fanned across her face.

She felt his thick thighs move to stand between her open legs, felt the hardness of his body rub deliciously against her core, and she keened against him, her hands traveling to his wide back to clutch greedily at his body.

She wanted this…

Wanted him…

And yet…

She pulled away from his kiss as the thoughts that had plagued her all day suddenly snuck to the forefront, and she met his questioning gaze with a small, lonely smile.

He frowned deeply even as he kept his arms around her, while he pressed their bodies together so beautifully, and Bulma felt the tears begin to rise again, hoping that they would get lost among the water that still touched her lashes and cheeks.

“Is something wrong, Bulma?” he asked, once again raising a hand to her cheek, and Bulma realized that it was to wipe away the lone tear that she had failed to hold in.

She felt herself hiccup, but she held fast, raising her own hand to lovingly cup his cheek.

“My husband returns tomorrow,” she began, “and once he does, we can no longer meet like this.”

He opened his mouth, as if to argue, but she stopped him with a single finger on his bottom lip.

“You know I am right, Vegeta,” she said. “And as much as I hate to say this, we _must_ stop.”

He remained silent, but his eyes were trained on her, taking in her every blink and pained smile while his ears listened unwillingly to her words.

“You are to be king. And I am to be queen. And we cannot let word of this… _affair_ … get out,” she said, cupping his face. “You have your people to fight for. You have your people to _lead.”_

The next thoughts in her head pained her, and they tumbled selfishly out of her lips in stilted, muttered words.

“Someday, when this war is over, you can settle down… You can lead the Saiyans with your-” she stuttered, “with your future queen by your side. And the royal line of Vegeta will live on, remembered for how they led the Saiyans to victory.”

He choked, and she frowned as she felt his hands wrap more firmly around her.

“I will find a way…” he muttered vaguely.

Yet, he gave her no time to question his words, when she felt him lift one arm away to clutch at her thigh, and he spread her open wider as he began to nudge himself into her.

She gasped as she felt his tip breach her, and her eyes fell shut as she relished the sensations as he slowly… oh, so slowly… entered her.

Her whole body shook as she wrapped her legs around him, and he groaned, holding himself still above her.

Bulma sighed in bliss, moving her hips in circles against his, feeling his body pulse within her.

However, when he remained unmoving, she fought to open her eyes…

Only to shut them again, unable to take the look that he had been giving her.

His eyes…

The look he was giving her was indescribable, an inscrutable mix of longing and loneliness, while he trained his gaze on her face.

She can’t…

Torn, unable to figure out what else to do, she kept her eyes closed as she moved against him, until finally, she felt him move to pull out, before gently but quickly thrusting back in.

She moaned uncontrollably as he set a quick but deep rhythm, her heart pounding fiercely within her chest when she felt his lips hover over her collar bone, leaving painfully light kisses upon her chest.

She kept her eyes closed…

Even as he began to groan against her, the low timbre of his voice sending delicious vibrations to fire beneath her skin.

“Haaah- oh! Vegeta,” she whined, unable to keep the words from stumbling from her lips.

He answered with a low groan, moving faster within her, his every touch on her invoking incredible passion that burned brighter and brighter, threatening to burst through her tightly closed eyelids.

“Oh… mmmm,” she moaned breathlessly as his every stroke inside her seemed to pull the heavens closer to her reach.

“Look at me,” he finally demanded as his hands gripped her tightly, as his chest pushed tantalizingly against her puckered nipples.

Unable to deny him, she finally opened her eyes…

His gaze was locked on her, only on her, and as the pressure built up, as the pleasure became too much to handle, she stared unblinkingly into his obsidian eyes while her body convulsed around him.

“Vegeta!” she cried as her entire body spasmed with her ecstasy.

“Bulma!” he hissed in return, and she felt him release into her body once again, his desire and need for her robbing him of his strength as he collapsed heavily on top of her following his peak.

He laid down upon her, his head pillowed on her bosoms, and Bulma stared mutely at the thick strands of his hair, still damp from their bath.

Her heart still beat a mad staccato within her rib cage as he nuzzled contentedly onto her slick skin, and she once again fought back the tears as she realized exactly how difficult her situation had just become.

She had feelings for Vegeta…

And she didn’t know how she would cope, beyond this final night with him.

8-8-8-8-8

They seemed to take for granted that his hearing was much better than a typical Capsuran.

After all, Goku wasn’t truly a Capsuran.

He stood before the door to his and Bulma’s bedroom, listening to her moan in pleasure, keening another man’s name.

Vegeta...

He winced when he heard her cry out; when Vegeta’s voice softly but fervently called her name.

It had taken him a shorter time than usual to get home from his security check.

He had not really been expecting such a _welcome_.

With his fists clenched tightly at his sides, he walked away.

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	5. Controlled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An incident in Bulma’s lab has Vegeta reacting strongly, risking discovery of their forbidden affair. Matters begin to escalate, and they soon find themselves struggling to regain control.  
> Day 5: Pegging; for the Fall 2018 Vegebul Smutfest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! It’s been a while! Please do excuse me for taking so long with this update, life is usually crazy for me every January so I have not had much time to write. Please accept this long chapter as an apology, lol!  
> Huge thanks to Blacksheep115 for the awesome beta job!  
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter. And as always, your comments will be very deeply appreciated!
> 
> Also, please check out TPTH on [Discord](https://discordapp.com/invite/6vbHx3k) and [Reddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/tpth)!

The Queen’s scepter gleamed proudly from its place on Bulma’s gilded display case, catching her eye as she moved to her chamber’s main receiving area.

With a sad sigh, she approached it as she remembered her grandmother, a brilliant queen, a woman with ambitions that were also stomped upon by Capsura’s misogynistic monarchy.

Bulma believed that she had inherited her mind from her grandmother, and as the days stretched before her with nothing more exciting than the possibility of light rains, she was starting to think that she would probably lead a similar life, as well.

The old queen had been the one to show Bulma the unused space in the castle so that she could use it as a laboratory, the one who had first shown her images of Saiyan technology that would eventually captivate her enough to begin experimenting on gadgets, herself.

The Queen, who had loved her so, had given her the scepter instead of handing it over to Panchy as was customary, and told her…

_“Bulma… you are my starlight. And someday, I know that you will find a way to let your brightness be seen by all.”_

The scepter, made of heavy Saiyan gold and topped with a replica of the Capsuran queen’s official crown, taunted her with its beauty, whilst the memory of her grandmother attempted to give her comfort.

With a shake of her head, Bulma turned away, leaving her chambers to head into the dining hall.

Dinner was a quiet affair, as she sat stiffly beside Goku, and across Vegeta. Goku had been acting strangely since his return three days ago, and she could not help but wonder what had the usually-cheerful man in such a melancholy mood.

As for Vegeta…

She swallowed hard as she remembered the last time they had spoken, the night before Goku’s return.

_“My husband returns tomorrow, and once he does, we can no longer meet like this.”_

He had remained with her all night, curled around her above the damp sheets, while she did her best to stave off the tears of misery that flooded both her eyes and her heart.

Sometime near dawn, she had fallen asleep; when she awoke, Vegeta was gone.

The morning of Goku’s return, the two had met with her father in the King’s private office, and soon after, the Saiyan prince and her half-Saiyan husband had headed off to train the troops once again.

In respect of her wishes, Vegeta had stayed away from her since.

Her precious beads, her lover’s gift to her, lay in a small box, hidden deep in the corners of a locked cabinet in her lab. Hourly, she fought the urge to dig it out just to peek at it or caress the smooth, pearly white stones.

The thought of what she could have had with Vegeta, the life that she could never have for herself, stung her like a lance through the heart, and it took all of Bulma’s strength to keep the darkness at bay.

Resentment sat bitterly at the back of her tongue, and she hated each day that she sat placidly across him at the dinner table, ignoring the yearning that she could feel reaching out for him through a bond that they could never fully hold on to.

It was this frustration that prompted Bulma – after returning from dinner – to move towards her display case, rise up on the tips of her toes, and take the scepter into her hands. She stared numbly at it, cursing the significance of the luxurious and otherwise useless accessory, mourning the fact that she had been born a princess with no choice regarding her path in life, rather than a commoner who had more of a right to say “no”.

She sighed deeply as she watched the light bounce off the shiny surface, before she held it more firmly to take it with her as she left her quarters. It was rather late in evening, and though she should be preparing for bed, she decided to go into her lab instead to get some work done on her cuff extensions for Goku and Vegeta.

She was nearly done with her first model, and Bulma smiled in spite of her personal frustrations as she reveled in how those gadgets would ensure that the two Saiyans would have just that more of an advantage during the war, if she managed to successfully complete the experiment. Besides, should she stay in the bedroom, she would be bored and alone anyway, as Goku and Vegeta were currently still in the fields, sparring after their usual training with the troops.

The two have been staying in the training grounds for longer hours than normal, and Bulma could sense that the reason was probably the agitation of the two men, their anxiety for the upcoming battles. They were the most powerful men on the planet, and their daily practices with the troops were definitely fully for the benefit of the Capsuran soldiers. Vegeta and Goku were both far too powerful, far too advanced in skill, for simple calisthenics to be of any effect for them, and if they wanted to build up their own strengths, they had to rely on each other, to test their respective limits.

She worried about how some nights, Goku would come crawling back into their bedroom near dawn, full of thick scrapes and bruises and sporting a limp or sprained arm. He would simply shake his head when she offered to treat him, and she would reluctantly go to bed as he himself plopped down on his bed to sleep. When he awoke a few hours later, he would already be refreshed, wounds all but gone, and would then go on to repeat the same cycle for the upcoming day.

Bulma had no idea about how Vegeta fared after their sparring matches, but she knew that Goku was nearly as powerful as he was, and he could not possibly get out of their fights unscathed. She worried about him, about how he treated his aches at night, and though she desperately wished to drop by to check on him, she knew that she _should not._

She turned the lights on in her lab as she entered, heading straight for the worktable that held her nearly completed prototype.

She frowned as she put the scepter down to pick up her nearly completed prototype, turning it over in her hand as she mulled over the last bit of wiring that she needed to fix, the gears in her head turning as her brilliant mind went over the equations.

Her last problem was not something that she had anticipated. She had been expecting that the lack of a ki level failsafe would make the new cuff extensions easier to make, but it had become painfully clear that the energies required to make a gadget that blocks ki from penetrating the shield would also tend to block the ki from _within_.

The first set of shields that she made worked by absorbing the attacking ki. Apparently, it had been easier to make a ki shield for non-ki users because the function throughout was just to absorb the energy, which had no effect on non-ki users. However, the ones she needed to make for Vegeta and Goku cannot function in the same way because it would risk absorbing their energies, possibly weakening them during their fights. It was just a probability, that the shields could slowly pull their powers from them, but it was one that Bulma dared not even consider risking.

She needed to find a way to make the blocking one-way, or to make it so that the shields blocked something other than ki from the inside so as not to deplete or even fully absorb the ki of the user.

Sitting down on her bench, she grabbed her screwdriver and went to work, glancing occasionally at her scepter in the hopes that the gleaming metal would somehow provide inspiration.

It was a frustrating process, trying to find a way to eliminate the correct variable, and before Bulma even realized it, darkness had fully fallen, and she was still nowhere close to coming up with a solution.

Her mind began to wander as she stared sightlessly at the gadget, trying to figure out a way to divert the shield’s energy. She absolutely couldn’t risk the chance of Vegeta and Goku’s energies being compromised, as those powers were important during the battles.

It wasn’t as if she could just make their ki hide from the shield!

Unless…

“How could I not have thought of this before?!” Bulma exclaimed out loud as she straightened, hand closing tightly around the cuff extensions as she dug around in her drawers for her smallest pliers.

She realized that she could try to make it so that a small override in the extensions could mask the user’s ki, and hopefully, this would be enough so that the main shield would not attempt to neutralize the wearer’s powers.

It was a bit of a risk, but she believed that she could make a proper cloaking mechanism that could be compatible with the energy absorption in the cuffs.

With newfound determination, she set to work again, uncaring of the fact that midnight was fast approaching. She had an idea on how to go about it: a secondary shield that would act as a blocker, keeping their energies away from the ki-absorbing shields to ensure that their own energies remained intact.

It took her a few of hours, until she held in her hand a rough prototype of the ki-cloaking shield. She still needed to perfect it, but she knew that the concept was already built into the extension that she had worked on.

“Alright. Now, how can I see if you work?” she asked her invention out loud, even as she began to clip it onto her testing cuffs.

Figuring that she could at least try to see if the mechanism would work, she placed the cuffs onto her arms. She just needed to see if her initial motors would engage, and she could work on perfecting the machine the following morning.

“At least I finally made some progress on this. I think,” she muttered, before she took a deep breath, and turned the dial to switch the cuffs on to 1.5 gravity.

A steady, soft hum began to emanate from the cuffs, and Bulma grinned as she watched the soft reddish light begin to cover her from head to toe. She felt herself grow heavier, her thin blue shirt pulling her down, and she turned her attention to the small extensions, willing the small indicator to turn green, signaling the compatibility of the installed motors.

The indicator first turned a pale shade of orange as it initiated, before it popped into bright green, and Bulma’s grin widened at the realization that the internal machines had engaged.

She twisted her arm to peer at her invention from different angles, brows furrowing slightly as she listened to the soft thrum of the motors.

“Now how do I test if this thing can actually hide ki?” she mused aloud.

The words were barely out of her mouth, when a distinct, raging energy, radiated suddenly, ominously,  through the air.

She shuddered as the pulse made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and she gasped as she recognized the searing sensation, the mesmerizing aura that had been growing more and more unmistakable to her with each passing day. The warmth of it usually surrounded her in a feeling of comfort…  Yet, this time, the energy was almost blinding in heat and intensity.

“Vegeta,” she gasped, turning to the entrance of her lab in shock, just in time to watch the wooden door burst into furious shards, flames licking at the shrapnel as the Saiyan suddenly stood, wild and crackling with energy, at the doorway.

He was indeed a terrifying presence, and Bulma stared in stunned awe as the electrifying aura around him pulsed in various shades of red and purple, his black eyes seeming to flash into luminous shades of green as he immediately set his gaze upon her.

Vegeta’s eyes were filled with dread, a hopeful and terrified desperation drawn vividly upon the lines of his face. He was not wearing his white breastplate, and his skin-tight blue suit was ripped harshly in some places, singed in some others. Across his heaving chest was a wide tear, showing off the sweaty bronze skin beneath, and his fierce eyes surveyed her from a bruised and bloody face.

“Ve-” she started to speak, but he gave her no chance, as she watched the fury in his gaze quickly dissolve into what looked like relief, and he flew directly towards her, arms outstretched as he madly grabbed her, crushing her against him with his thick and powerful arms.

“Bulma,” he rasped, and she stood confused as he curled around her, burying his nose onto her neck, into the tangled strands of her hair.

She gulped, hands hovering hesitantly at his sides as she tried to fight back the tears that welled in her eyes, the feel of him against her after what seemed like forever overwhelming her, making her heart pound in glee as her mouth dried from her regret.

His body felt the same as it had the last time she held him, his musk thick and glorious as she deeply but covertly inhaled his scent, and his tight embrace reminded her of everything in life that was beautiful, everything she wanted but could never hope to have. He felt like passion, determination, and the raw heat of him was an overwhelming torrent of _need_ in the mire of her lackluster life of nothing but prim and reluctant compliance.

“Vegeta… what-” she gulped, utterly confounded. “What’s wrong?”

“What the _fuck_ happened?” he growled as he pulled away, holding her at arm’s length while his eyes roved over her entire body in apparent confusion and concern.

Behind him, Bulma saw Goku rush in, panting from exertion, eyes just as wide and frenzied as Vegeta’s had been moments before.

He took in the sight before him, of Bulma wrapped in Vegeta’s frantic hold, and she watched as a momentary look of anger flashed through his eyes before they softened in apparent reassurance.

“Bulma, are you alright?” Goku asked breathlessly as he too approached, assessing her while a small frown crossed his lips.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she answered, uncertain. Vegeta was still holding her by the shoulders, seemingly uncaring of current company as his brows furrowed lower and lower over his eyes. “What’s happening?”

“ _You_ tell me,” Vegeta snarled. “What happened to your ki?”

“My ki?” she asked, growing even more confused. “I am not a ki-user, what-”

“Your life force, woman!” he said loudly, lightly shaking her. “Why can I not _feel_ you?”

Bulma’s jaw dropped, and she felt heat crawl up her cheeks as she began to understand what had just happened.

If Vegeta failed to sense her life force…  it must have meant that her ki-cloaking shield worked!

A grin lit up her face as she raised her arms, showing off the cuffs with the new extensions. “It worked!”

In front of Vegeta’s and Goku’s disbelieving eyes, she turned off the cuffs, and she sensed the tension melt away from Vegeta’s tight grip as her miniscule ki began to make itself known once again.

“Wow!” Goku whispered, surprised as he watched her from behind Vegeta. “Did you just make something to keep people from sensing you?”

She turned back to Vegeta, watching as understanding began to dawn on him as well, and she watched in satisfaction as his worry melted into a look of proud surprise.

“You made a ki-cloak?” he asked, amazement coloring his words in spite of his clear irritation.

“Yes!” she answered excitedly as Vegeta finally let go of her.

He moved to stand away from her, just as Goku moved towards her with his hands raised. With a smile, she welcomed him into her arms as he enveloped her in a warm hug.

The contrast between Vegeta’s and Goku’s touches hit her aggressively as she gazed at Vegeta’s stiff countenance over Goku’s shoulder.

Where Vegeta’s touch was passionate fire, Gokus’s was the cool wind; Vegeta’s arms filled her with unbridled desire and joy, while Goku’s gave her calmness and the comfort of unfailing camaraderie.

Goku was her _friend._

Vegeta was her…

Her…

She shook her head to straighten out her thoughts as Goku pulled away, lips lifted in a hesitant smile.

“You should really warn us the next time you do that, Bulma,” he chastised mildly, before he furrowed his brows, looking at her sternly. “It was kind of scary, when I realized that your ki had just suddenly disappeared.”

Bulma’s brows raised in question, and Goku sighed loudly, rolling his eyes slightly with a fond grin.

“Bulma,” he started patiently. “Your ki disappeared suddenly. What did you suppose Vegeta and I would think?”

“I… I don’t-”

“Dammit, woman!” Vegeta suddenly exclaimed, and Bulma turned to see him as he balled his hands into fists while he took a compulsive step towards her, his agitation practically spilling from his skin. “I… We thought you had _died!”_

Her eyes widened in surprise, hands flying up to cover her mouth and suppress a gasp.

She had never thought of it that way. She had never even considered it, at all.

“I… I’m sorry,” she began, eyes wide as she felt her blood rush to her cheeks, her embarrassment at such an oversight making her cringe. “I wasn’t thinking-”

“Damn _right,_ you were not thinking,” Vegeta hissed, eyes narrowed, lips thinned into a thin line. “Your ki was in the lab and suddenly it was _gone._ I had thought you had blown yourself up or poisoned yourself with one of your outrageous experiments.”

She bristled at that, embarrassment gone as she snarled back, “My experiments are _not_ outrageous-”

“They ARE!” Vegeta roared, and Bulma drew back at the sheer vehemence, the unbridled fury in his tone. “They are wild imaginings that you somehow posses the skills to turn into real machines, but you have a ridiculous flight of ideas and no sense of self-preservation when it comes to your results. You would fucking _dare_ to demand that I fire my own energy blasts upon you without thought of what could possibly happen should your toys not live up to your expectations.”

Goku stepped up then, and Bulma noticed how he held one arm out in her direction, as if unconsciously shielding her from a threat.

“Vegeta, it’s alright,” he said, and Bulma recognized the note of warning in his tone. “She isn’t hurt. Bulma won’t ever be so careless again.”

However, Goku’s next words, and the flat tone suddenly filling his voice, made the hairs on the back of Bulma’s neck rise in trepidation.

“And I should thank you, Vegeta,” Goku said, eyes cold and uncharacteristically calculating. “I am glad that you are so concerned about _my wife_.”

“Damn right, she should never be,” Vegeta bit out, not rising to Goku’s veiled bait, before snapping his accusing gaze back to Bulma, “for if you _ever_ do that again, if only to keep you breathing, I will restrain you into a padded room, myself!”

Vegeta flared his aura as he turned away, flying angrily out of the room while Bulma and Goku stared in varying degrees of upset.

Goku was the first to break the stunned silence as he cleared his throat, before facing Bulma once more.

“Sorry, Bulma,” Goku said, scratching awkwardly at the back of his head. “But I understand why Vegeta is so pissed. We were really worried.”

Bulma blinked, before she placed her hands on her hips, raising a brow at Goku, before she carefully answered. “How did you both even sense such a thing? Vegeta has repeatedly told us all that Capsuran auras are so low that we are barely detectable.”

“Well, I’m thinking maybe that he has become really _familiar_ with your aura, so he sensed you quickly,” Goku answered, face suddenly blanking as an unreadable look flitted momentarily over his eyes.

Bulma was too upset to really delve into how her childhood friend-turned-husband was feeling, and she threw her hands up in aggravation as she shrilled. “Impossible! He had once told me that, though it was not difficult, he needed to put active effort into it if he wanted to locate me!”

Goku was silent for a beat, and Bulma realized that he was possibly puzzling over things, as well. His brows furrowed, replacing the placid look in his face as he answered, “Maybe he had been actively reaching out to find you, then.”

“Why would he-”

“We were sparring,” Goku cut her off, “when he suddenly froze, and his whole face went pale. He shouted your name before he suddenly took off, and it was only then that I concentrated on finding you and I realized that your ki had disappeared.”

Bulma was surprised by this, but tried not to let it show on her face.

How had Vegeta managed to realize that her ki had disappeared?

She clearly remembered his words from the first time that he had followed her into her lab…

_“As miniscule as your power level is, it is not a challenge to locate you.”_

_“I resolved to look for you.”_

Vegeta had made it clear then, that he needed to put a measure of effort into sensing her whereabouts. How then, had he suddenly _felt_ her disappearance? It didn’t make sense for him to have been actively seeking her out while he was sparring with Goku.

It… It did not make sense…

“Hey, listen Bulma,” Goku interrupted her thoughts, and dazed, she turned back to him, noting the grim lines of his face. “Vegeta really panicked. I sensed it in him. And so did I. I think it would be best if you paused on your work right now, and just start again in the morning. You should go to bed.”

“And you?” she asked. “Will you be turning in, as well?”

He shook his head. “No. I’m gonna train for a few more hours. Vegeta had been wiping the floor with me before he suddenly flew off. My head isn’t fully into this… I need to concentrate, to get stronger, or I could possibly, actually _die_ in this war.”

“Goku!” she gasped, slapping his upper arm in reprimand. “Don’t joke about such things!”

“I’m not kidding!” Goku said with a chuckle, while a hand lifted to brush against the spot she had hit in her irritation. “It’s war. And if I’m not careful, somebody stronger or faster than me could overpower me, and this isn’t gonna be a friendly match, Bulma. The enemies _will_ kill me if I mess up.”

She sucked in a breath, eyes widening as something about Goku’s words hit her like a slap to the face. She was no fool, but part of her had always seemed to deny the mortal peril that their soldiers would be facing once they flew off to Vegeta-sei.

Yes, it was war… yes it was dangerous, and Bulma knew this. And yet, she had never truly considered the real threat, the very big chance, that someone she loved could leave for the fight and never come back.

Goku…

Vegeta…

Should anything go wrong, her childhood friend, _and_ her lover, could possibly not make it back _alive._

Bulma choked, a trembling hand flying to her chest as the force of her realizations nearly drowned her, and she stared back at Goku, speechless, while he too silently watched her with his dark eyes.

The usual cheerful sparkle of his eyes was gone, replaced by grim determination and a hint of fury, and she was helpless against the impulse to move towards him, taking him into her arms in a fierce embrace.

He swallowed even as he held her in return, and she could feel the surprised discomfort radiating throughout his body, knowing fully-well that she had never, ever, taken the initiative to hold him like this, before.

“Um… Bulma?” he asked hesitantly, as she felt one of his large hands rest comfortingly upon her head. “Are you alright?”

She nodded, before she pulled away, her eyes stinging in regret and apprehension.

For she really did love Goku, loved him dearly, and she regretted her lack of attention towards him in the days leading up to their battle.

“I…” she started, floored by all the sudden thoughts flooding her mind, heavily underscored by a new and overwhelming feeling of dread. It was as she tried to form words that she understood… “Goku, I’m scared.”

“Don’t be,” he said, pulling back to look at her in concern, his brows furrowed low over his eyes. His eyes, which, Bulma now realized, were nearly as dark and weary as Vegeta’s. “We’re all gonna be fine. But for now, I need to train. And _you_ need to get out of this lab, right now.”

She smiled weakly. “I’m not sleepy.”

“Well,” he answered, “if you don’t wanna go to bed, you could always just walk around the palace. Clear your mind, have a snack.”

She nodded, turning from him to remove her cuffs and place them back on her worktable, so she could keep working on them the next day.

“I’ll go into the woods and train. I’ll probably be out until mid-day tomorrow,” Goku added, and Bulma turned back to him, brows raised.

There it was, again, that unreadable tone in his words, a note of suggestiveness that she couldn’t quite understand.

She was about to ask if _he_ was alright when he turned around, and from the tenseness of his shoulders, Bulma could tell that something was really bothering her friend.

“Goku,” she called, her heart clenching painfully as she whispered. “We’re… best friends, right? You’ll tell me if something is bothering you, right?”

He had asked her the same thing, before he left to inspect the security breach. She had not wanted to answer him then, because if she had said _yes,_ it would have been a _lie…_ and she had lied when she choked out her affirmative answer.

Goku turned his head to the side, regarding her out the side of his eye.

She watched as a small smile lifted the edge of his lips, before he turned from her, and began to walk away.

Bulma paled when she understood that Goku didn’t want to say _yes_.

And Goku… Goku never, ever, lied.

Bitter terror crawled up in her as she realized that Goku was keeping secrets now, and she was in absolutely no position to accuse him of any manner of treachery because _she_ was definitely the worse person between the two of them.

And yet, it infuriated Bulma, to be so badly out of control, to be so in doubt about her own life and standing, because she had been weak enough to allow herself to feel so strongly for a man who had bewitched her with desire, a man who she knew all too well was not her lawful husband.

It made her so angry, and she had a frightful suspicion that Goku may possibly not be as in the dark about her affair as he had been leading her to believe…

This… this was all _Vegeta’s_ fault.

She knew she was being illogical, foolish even, but her guilt had begun to eat at her once again, and in her agitation, she had begun desperately casting around for someone to blame.

What had he been doing, freaking out about her ki like he did, in front of her damn husband? Did he not, for a moment, consider the implications, the insinuations, that such a ridiculous level of apparent concern would stir up?

She trembled, absolutely _seething_ , her brows slanting low over her blue eyes as she looked around her room, grimacing at the very table where she and Vegeta had begun indulging in their depravity.

A brilliant glint near the edge of the workspace caught her eye, and she turned to glare at the golden scepter, its sheen seemingly taunting her, a solitary spark of beauty in what was otherwise her personal, mechanical wasteland.

Her hand shook as she reached for her scepter, but as she pulled it into her grasp, her hold was firm, determined…

Perhaps, she had let this dalliance go on too long, that now both she and Vegeta had begun to get confused about their true places in each other’s lives. Perhaps, what she needed to do was to truly put an end to this affair with Vegeta, once and for all.

She had never truly had much control over her life in the past, but maybe… Maybe it was high time for Princess Bulma of Capsura to _take_ control.

8-8-8-8-8

Her earlier conviction seemed to have flown out the window as Bulma stood, immobile, in front of what she knew to be Vegeta’s bedroom door.

The prince had been provided with a chamber of his own over the duration of his stay on her planet, and she was well-aware that he barely ever used the chamber, not even for sleep. He was far too full of fire and energy, and this volatile mixture burned constantly through his veins, so strongly that he needed to train continuously to keep his fiery nature at bay.

She clutched her scepter tightly as her heart beat madly in her chest, as her breaths blew out her lips in harsh puffs. She had grabbed her precious heirloom as she left her lab, not wanting to simply leave it there, and had kept her hold on it as she made her way to Vegeta’s room.

Her eyes narrowed at the door’s offensive lock, and she glared heatedly at it, as if willing it to turn on its own; she did not want her trembling hands to have to release their hold on the golden ornament that now acted as her security blanket, keeping her tenuously tethered to reality.

He was inside, she knew. She didn’t know how, but it was almost as if she could _sense_ him, feel him beneath her skin like an ever-quickening vibration that seized her chest with every pulse.

The more she focused on thoughts of Vegeta – reluctantly recalling all the memories that she shared with him – the more she felt him burrowing beneath her skin, and she refused to knock, knowing that if she could sense him, he damn well surely could sense _her._

After what felt like an eternity of doubt, she heard the lock turn, and she straightened, drawing herself up to her full height as the door yawned open.

Vegeta was not holding the door for her, but he had unlocked it and pulled it a crack, just enough of an invitation that Bulma easily accepted. She stepped through, pushing the door closed behind her with the heel of her flat shoes, eyes scanning the relatively small bedroom until they landed on the forlorn form that sat hunched on the edge of the bed.

Bulma noted how Vegeta had pushed his bed into a far corner of the chamber, leaving him concealed in the shadows cast by the palace walls, away from the weak rays of the moon shining in from his narrow window.  The rest of the room was utterly pristine, not a single ornament or piece of furniture out of place. The tattered, dirty armor he had been wearing as he burst into her lab was folded neatly into the bottom of a small hamper, and she wondered, in passing, how many of such clothing he had brought with him, and how he ever managed to get them clean for the following day.

Realizing that her thoughts were stalling, she turned back to him, taking in his curled-up posture as he slumped in a set of simple, thin white sleeping clothes. The scent of warm water still lingered in the air from beyond the slightly open bathroom door, and Bulma realized that he had just emerged from the shower, a fact made even more apparent by the damp and droopy strands of his hair.

Something about the way he glared deliberately away from her, his bottom lip sticking out in a slight pout, pulled at Bulma’s heartstrings. She almost smiled at the image he presented, almost seeming like a small, petulant boy, and she fiercely dismissed the fond thoughts as she focused on what she had come to do.

With deep breath, she began. “Vegeta-”

“I do not need to hear it, _Princess,_ ” he spat, surprising her with the resentment in his tone. “I know I fucked up. We are not-”

He cut himself off with a gulp, and Bulma raised a brow at him in question as she moved to stand before him.

“We are not…” he continued, “ _together_. Not anymore. Still, I had lost control. However, I will _not_ apologize, if that is what you expect from me.”

“I don’t expect an apology-”

“Your gaze is burning holes through the side of my damn head,” he hissed, before he turned to face her, and she was taken aback by the melancholy sort of fury that burned in his dark eyes. “If you did not come for an apology, then why are you here?”

“I…” Bulma hesitated, before she straightened her stance, tightening her grip around her scepter to a nearly painful degree. “I came here to tell you to – to – to _stop_ it. Stop this… whatever this is.”

Vegeta stared at her, eyes wide and blazing with disbelief. “We _did._ What are you talking about?”

“We stopped… _fucking,”_ Bulma muttered, cheeks flaming red in embarrassment at the crude word that she had just uttered, but it was the only word she could think of to describe what they had been indulging in, thus far. “We stopped being physical. But, you are still thinking of me, aren’t you? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have run there like the entire universe had collapsed, when my ki disappeared.”

“And what if I am,” Vegeta said, hands balling into tight fists, legs bunching up as he defiantly stood up at her words. “What if I am? It is _my_ mind. What goes on within it, is none of your concern.”

“It _is_ my concern,” she shot back, “when your thoughts lead you to stupid actions that could expose how I had allowed myself to succumb to you-”

“Fuck you, Bulma!” he yelled suddenly, and she drew back at the violent rage streaming out of his every pore, choking her in a cloud of his mutiny. “I accept that you being with me had been morally wrong. I accept that I had overstepped my bounds by daring to _touch_ you. But do not _dare_ to treat me like I had been nothing more than a disgusting mistake. You had wanted it as much as I did, if not more-”

_Slap!_

The sound of her hand painfully whipping against his cheek surely surprised him more than it hurt him, but it was enough to halt his tirade, long enough for Bulma to seethingly whisper her response.

“I _did,”_ she said, watching through slitted eyes as he raised a hand to his face, stroking his abused cheek in grim amusement. “I am not petty enough to deny it. I _wanted_ it; Wanted _you_. But we had agreed to stop-”

“You _asked_ for us to stop,” he growled a sardonic sneer flitting across his lips. “I never _agreed_.”

She clutched her scepter with the hand that was not stinging from the slap she had delivered, and stuttered, “Vegeta-”

He raised his free hand, stopping whatever she had been intending to say; a relief, truth be told, as what he said had left her with no idea how to respond.

She watched as his sneer melted down into a deep frown, both hands falling to his sides as he stared hard at her, his entire body brimming with tension.

“I never wanted to stop. I wanted...” he said, his face twisted in fury, though his eyes belied a deep sadness that reverberated through his every word. “I wanted to _keep_ you. But I hold you in high enough regard to understand that I should not attempt to sway you… That I should not force myself upon you when you clearly do not view _me_ in the same manner as _I_ see _you_.”

Bulma gaped, her mind blanked out by the pain behind his words.

He… Vegeta…

She had never truly realized that he viewed their affair in such a way.

Or perhaps, a part of her understood, but she had kept denying it to herself…

She remembered their date… the luxurious beads…

How he touched her with such fervor… the deep, passionate glint in his eyes when he claimed her…

Her silence seemed to Vegeta as a sign to keep going, and as he spoke, he turned away from her, just as the tears of regret began to gather at the back of Bulma’s blue eyes.

She felt the weight of her sorrow in those tears, their salt hitting the back of her throat like poison, as she listened to Vegeta’s words.

“You… you were _mine,”_ he said, his voice shaking in determinedly suppressed emotion. “To me, you still are, and always will be. But what kind of a man, and prince, would I be, if I were to force you into such a situation against your wishes?”

“I… I didn’t… It wasn’t,” she began, her voice a weak whisper as she tried in vain to keep her tears at bay. “It wasn’t against my wishes, what we had. But… it was wrong…”

He stood stiffly, back stubbornly presented to her, as she floundered helplessly for what more to say.

She could feel the hiccups starting in her chest as she went on. “You… You have given me so much, let me feel things that I never thought I could and never believed I had the right to feel.”

His shoulders were rigid, and she saw his hands clench impossibly tight. Still, Bulma pushed on, knowing that what she needed to say, had to be said.

She deserved as much.

… So did he.

“I just can’t keep this up anymore. The secrets… the betrayals,” she said. “I hated that, what little control I had of my life, I had given up to you _-”_

“Hah,” he scoffed, refusing to turn back to her. His voice dripped in contempt as he spoke. “Control? Is this about _control?_ You think _you_ have lost control?”

“Vege-”

“Do you honestly presume to think,” he said, “that you are the only one to have lost control?”

He spun around then, and Bulma gasped, pulling her scepter to her chest as she desperately needed to hold on to something, lest she be swept away by the tide of Vegeta’s painful thoughts and words.

“You have no idea, how much _control_ I had lost, since the first time I ever saw you as I landed on this planet,” he said. “You accuse me of being a heathen, of tempting you; and you lend no thoughts to how you had completely changed the core of who I am. Do you think me the kind of man to leap into bed with other men’s wives?”

Bulma couldn’t speak, his eyes piercing her uncomfortably as he moved forward to hold her shoulders in his large hands.

“I am an _honorable_ warrior, and yet, your allure had turned me into an adulterous home-wrecker. Today, I was an unthinking fool, turning my back on an opponent because I could not sense your life force; like a damn pet, mooning over its master,” he lamented angrily. “If there is anyone here who had surrendered control, it is _me_.”

“Are you… are you trying to blame me for all this? That I lured you?!” she asked angrily, trying and failing to shrug his hands from their hold on her.

“I never said that-”

“How dare you!” she shouted as hysteria swelled within her. “ _You_ came to _me._ I am a married woman and you seduced me. I… I love my husband! I-”

“Do not fucking lie to yourself, Bulma!” he yelled, shaking her enough to quiet her. “You do not love Kakarot. Not in the way that you should love your mate.”

“I do!” she insisted, holding one of his arms in an attempt to pry him away. “I do!”

“No you do not!” he fought back, gritting his teeth. “Because if you loved him as you should, you would not have begun fucking _me_.”

“Argh!” she shouted, the tears she had been holding in finally falling from her eyes, and Vegeta pulled away as she began to cry, her emotions an unreadable mess, rioting within her heart and mind.

“Don’t say that!” she shrilled! “I don’t want to hear it! Stop!”

“Does the truth hurt, Princess?” he hissed, eyes flashing menacingly, his mouth twisting into a cruel smirk that sent horrified, furious shudders to run throughout her whole body.

“Stop!” she said, livid, swinging her scepter in his direction. “No! We made a mistake! You should not… you should not care for me. You should not worry for me. Is that not what an affair is? Two people indulging in sins of the flesh? Why are you making me…”

He watched as she shook, as she brandished her scepter like a weapon, as if terrified to allow him to come nearer.

“Why…” she breathed. “Why are you making me feel this way? Why do you make me hurt?”

She sobbed, her heart bursting from desperate agony as she realized that his words stung her far more than they should, because…

Because, she wanted him. She truly, irrevocably, did.

She needed Vegeta, needed to hold him, to have him always in her arms… She was burning with her desire to always keep him with her, to build a future with him by her side…

In the midst of her sorrow, Bulma looked up at Vegeta, staring into eyes that were suddenly cold, unforgiving…

“You came here to assert your control, did you not?” he asked, cruelly sneering. “Because you needed so badly to establish your power, to prove that you are dominant over me, in some way?”

He eyed the scepter in her hand as he scoffed. “Is that why you brought your prop? What were you intending on doing with it? Use it to hammer home the fact that you are royalty and should be untouchable?”

She bristled at the insinuation, her sorrow giving way to anger, and she opened her mouth to give him another piece of her mind when he froze her words in her throat, with his.

“Or were you intending on a more… physical approach? Were you planning to hurt me? To hold me down, stand above me as you strike me with your club?” he leered. “Were you considering destroying me, damaging me?”

He moved towards her leisurely, his steps heavy and deliberate, before defiantly encircling the scepter with this thumb and forefinger while he stared maliciously into her eyes. “Did it cross your mind, to fuck me with it, like I am some thirsty, dirty whore?”

She cringed back, appalled. “What did you-”

“It is about dominance, is it not?” he asked. “Had you been imagining me, down on my knees, with you brutally shoving your scepter up my ass? Pegging me like a willing pleasure slave, desperate for his queen’s lust…”

“Shut up!” she cried, even as a vivid image of his words painted themselves like a brush upon the canvas of her imagination.

_Vegeta, on his elbows and knees before her, head thrown back, eyes clenched shut, as she pegged him repeatedly with the blunt end of her scepter. She would drive the scepter in with one hand, and firmly pump his thick cock with the other, caressing the protruding veins of his manhood with her thumb. She would drape herself over him, gently nipping at his skin with her teeth, and he would groan hoarsely, panting heavily beneath her, his muscular arms clutching madly at the sheets as she lay over him._

_Bulma would then lick the sweat that beaded on his skin, preen at the sound of his voice moaning her name as he turned his head to pin her with his deep, dark stare… And she would move forward to take his lips with hers as she moved faster, more deeply into his body..._

Bulma felt her cheeks flare, and she sputtered out in denial. “No!”

“Tch,” he spat, before he stepped away, moving further from her to sit on his bed once again. “Then you had best leave, Princess. We have nothing more to discuss. And frankly, I wish to rest, as I am exhausted from beating your _husband’s_ face into the ground all day.”

He sat as he had when she first came in, the lines of his body screaming his dismissal of her. Though Bulma craved to scream her frustrations at him until dawn broke the horizon, she refrained, choosing instead to turn and let herself out the door.

She walked with fast, furious steps, very nearly breaking into a run as she angrily dashed her tears from her eyes with her arm, teeth gnashing as she boiled in rage at his audacity…

It was not until she was back in her room, heart pounding in her fury as she ran over their conversation in her mind, that Bulma realized what Vegeta had truly done…

He had stoked her anger as she had begun to cry, knowing fully-well that her rage would trump her sorrow…

Even while he too was in pain, he still thought of how to best keep her sadness at bay.

She did not miss the haunted look in his eyes as he lashed at her with his acidic words, as he diverted her emotions with his dirty thoughts and words.

If there was anything that was made clear to Bulma on this day, it was the simple, glaring fact that Vegeta cared for her.

And the most difficult part was, that she cared deeply for him, as well… and she now understood that as she had stood before him, demanding her control, she had ended up losing all of it, in the end.

8-8-8-8-8

To be continued…


	6. Unveiled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle on Vegeta-sei is fast approaching, and everybody is on edge. Vegeta approaches Bulma with one last request… but just as something beautiful is found beneath their bed of lies, Bulma unearths a secret that could destroy everything that she had ever known and believed in.  
> Day 6: Titty-fucking; for the Fall 2018 Vegebul Smutfest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> This chapter is one that I had been very excited to write for the past week. And now I am very happy to share it with you all! I hope you like it!  
> And of course, a bajillion thanks to my superfriend Blacksheep115 for her amazing patience with this chapter!  
> Let's begin, shall we?  
> As always, your feedback will be very much appreciated!

Tensions were running high, and Bulma felt the pressure as the soldiers fitted into their war suits, sharpened their blades, and spent longer days in the training fields.

The Saiyans’ spaceships had arrived the day before, ready to take the Capsurans into space to assist in the war. The saucer-shaped vehicles were larger than any other ship that Bulma had ever laid eyes on, and while she marveled at the machines and lamented the fact that she could not analyze the technology for longer, she also knew that the ships’ arrival heralded the final stages of their troops’ preparations.

She and Dr. Gero, along with all of the available scientists on the planet, were dead on their feet at completing the food and supplies that were being distributed into the ships.

One last week to go.

They had a mere seven days left, and she was exhausted.

A part of her prayed for the day of the departure, so that her job would be done, but an even larger part of her was paralyzed in terror of the coming days, biting her nails at the thought of the possible casualties of war.

At least, she had managed to finish all of the gravity cuffs, including the ones for the two Saiyans. She had kept her ki-shield prototype with her, and had given the perfected models to the two warriors, along with her desperate wishes for their safe return.  

Goku and Vegeta had both become restless, tireless, damn-near destroying their southern desert planes as they battled each other in preparation for the more brutal fights ahead.

She barely even saw Goku anymore, and whenever she did, he was irate, exhausted, but unwilling to stay down and get rest.

And then, there was Vegeta…

Bulma was unable to even look at him, as every time their eyes met, she saw only depthless rage and defiance in his dark gaze. The sharpness of his eyes pierced her like a poisonous lance, and she could do nothing but swallow her pride and quickly turn away, forcing her back to straighten in the face of the agony that she felt whenever he was there… his body so close, his heart light years away.

It was all her fault, and she knew it well.

She had hurt him, damaged him in such a profound way, but what he did not seem to acknowledge was the fact that her turning away from him had so thoroughly destroyed her, as well.

She was no imbecile. Setting her heart aside, she had searched her mind until she fully understood what had happened. Her unfailing intellect proved to be the friend to her sanity, that her heart had somehow ceased to be. For finally, she could clearly see it; but perhaps, it was too late…

Bulma had come to terms with the painful truth… she was desperately, helplessly in love, with Vegeta.

Oh, how her heart yearned for him, needed him... She could feel her very soul weep with the mere thought of his timid smiles, at the memory of his warm embrace. She felt crushed by how utterly she wished that she could have been with him… that there could have been a way for her to stay at his side. 

But it was futile, a fool’s wish, for there was no way that she could ever leave her life behind, no way to hide the disgrace, should it ever be discovered what lascivious deeds she had indulged in behind the palace walls.

It was such a sordidly hopeless situation.

Besides, even with the understanding of her feelings, the sharp realization that had so harshly slapped her across the face, what even was the point, now?

Vegeta had already turned away from her too, hadn’t he?

She could still remember his face as he dismissed her, the cruel smirk on his lips as he taunted her; and though she understood his motives behind the anger that he had fanned within her on that night, she also knew that, his methods aside, he had effectively put a full stop to whatever it was that they had going on between them.

Whatever they may have had, it was over, now.

Still, she couldn’t help the yearning in her heart, how it beat madly as she remembered his soft chuckles and teasing smirks… She twisted in the fire that flowed through her blood as she wished for a mere flutter of his fingertips on her skin. For another kiss, another breathless whisper into her ear.

How she missed the shy smiles, the ones she had glimpsed during his unguarded moments, the ones he would probably never bless her with, ever again.

Ever the masochist, Bulma had belligerently pulled her beads out of their hiding place, wearing them around her neck, hidden by her clothes.

For what else was left for her to fear?

Losing Vegeta made her feel like she had already lost everything, anyway.

8-8-8-8-8

“Princess Bulma.”

Bulma paused as she walked along the long palace corridor on the way to the king’s study room. She turned her head, finding Dr. Gero standing a few feet away, a small furrow on his brow, wiry white hair pulled back with a thin black band.

“Dr. Gero,” she answered, giving the man a fond grin. Having worked together so much over the past few months, she now considered the doctor a comrade in scientific work. “Please walk with me, I’m on my way to see my father.”

“Excellent,” the man said with a nod. “Perhaps I have reached you at a good time then.”

“I trust that the remaining preparations are going well?” she asked as she nodded at the guards stationed at the entrance of the royal hall.

“Everything is going perfectly, Princess,” he answered. “But those preparations are not what I have come to see you about.”

She frowned. “What is it then, Doctor?”

“You see, my lady,” he began. “I have taken an interest in those ki-shields that you have fashioned for our troops, but especially the ones that you have made for Duke Goku and Prince Vegeta.”

“And what about them, in particular, would you like to ask me about?”

“I wish to ask for your permission,” he said, “to go through your schematics and make a machine that we can perhaps use to reinforce our planetary force fields.”

Bulma paused. “Do you find our current force fields inadequate, Doctor?”

“Not inadequate, not at all,” he clarified. “But there could always be room for improvement. Our force fields protect us from physical invasion and manufactured ray attacks, but what are we to do, should Frieza have a mind to blast us with concentrated ki? It is a possibility, now that we have allied ourselves directly with the Saiyans.”

Her eyes widened, considering the possibility. “Do you believe that _that_ is how he destroyed the other slave planets? Not by redirecting meteors, as had been reported?”

“Prince Vegeta and I had been talking, and he had described to me the magnitude of Frieza’s powers,” Gero said. “I had always held doubts about the meteor stories, and Prince Vegeta himself believes that Frieza has enough power to destroy an entire planet with a single strike.”

A shudder went through Bulma, terror filling her at the mere imagining of such power. She had seen Vegeta’s powers, and they were already unfathomable. If Frieza could truly do what Vegeta thinks he could… “What do you propose, Dr. Gero?”

“My wife and I have some theories that we wish to test, and with the help of our son and your schematics, I believe we could have a reinforcement prototype ready by the end of the week,” he said. “With your permission, we could begin right away.”

Bulma had met Dr. Gero’s wife, a beautiful middle-aged lady whose fiery red hair was streaked by thick locks of silver. She had certainly seemed like an intelligent woman, but Bulma was surprised that Dr. Gero was putting her name forward in the endeavor. “Your wife? I’m surprised at the level of involvement you have planned for her.”

Gero smiled. “I believe that you, above all others, would know that women can have very impressive minds, your Highness.”

This brought a smile to her, and she eyed the approaching doors to the study room as she spoke. “I approve. But I need to run this through my father, first. Let me speak with him.”

Bulma stood before the doors, a hand raised to push the heavy wood open, before she froze when a strange pulse went through her, coursing through her chest and warming the blood in her veins.

“Vegeta,” she gasped, sure of the sensation even while she remained unsure of _how_ she knew. It was simply as if a part of her understood that the soothing heat that filled her now was Vegeta, could only be Vegeta…

“ _Is this what it’s like, to sense people through ki? How am I sensing him, then?”_ she wondered, hesitating at the entryway. This had definitely never happened before!

Why now?

Somehow, she knew that he would be right there, face-to-face with her, the moment she walked through the door.

She steeled herself, summoning her false bravado into her palms as she pushed the doors open, smiling brightly as her eyes purposely stared straight ahead, right where she knew her father and his desk were bound to be at.

“Father,” she called, her voice loud and confident, masking the emotions that flooded her when she saw Vegeta’s form standing only a few feet away.

She didn’t dare to look directly at him, pointedly keeping her eyes on her father, trying hard to ignore Vegeta as his presence all but screamed for her attention. She could feel his eyes on her, and a part of her was sure that he was looking at her with hooded eyes, his gaze intensely burning into her as she walked past.

“Bulma,” King Trunks greeted as she walked up, curtsying before him. “I called you because I need to discuss something with you.”

“What may that be, father?” she asked.

“Prince Vegeta,” the king said, motioning towards the aforementioned Saiyan with a hand, “had brought forth some doubts regarding our defenses.”

Bulma could have smiled if she wasn’t so ill at ease. It seemed as if Vegeta had already breached the topic with her father, making it easier for her to begin the discussion.

How ridiculous was it of her, to feel the butterflies arise in her stomach, at the thought that Vegeta was still there, trying to build her genius up to her father?

It just made it even clearer to her, that no matter how much they had gone through, in the end, Vegeta respected her skills, believed in her abilities, and saw her as not just a bedmate, but as a true equal.

And was that not what had made her gravitate towards him, in the first place?

She gulped discretely, licking her lips before she answered. “Yes father. I had also been speaking to Dr. Gero about this.”

She then proceeded to tell her father of all that she and the doctor had discussed, and Vegeta stood there the whole time, diplomatically prodding at the king until he finally agreed to let the Gero family of scientists work on the shield, under Bulma’s supervision.

As they settled upon the decision, Bulma curtsied once again, before swiftly turning around to head out of the study room. She stepped through the doors, briskly walking into the empty hallway.

“Princess Bulma!”

She stiffened as Vegeta’s voice rang clearly through the corridors, and she _felt_ as he approached her from behind, his steps quick and rhythmic against the tiled floors.

“Yes, Prince Vegeta,” she asked softly, her voice imperceptibly belligerent as he moved to stand before her, a few feet away.

He was close enough to touch her, to lay a hand on her arm should he choose to, but he appeared to restrain himself, instead stiffly crossing his arms as he stared into her eyes.

He looked… bedraggled.

Bulma’s brows furrowed in concern as she observed the dark bags under his eyes, the small gashes on his cheeks. His lips were slightly parched, and she followed the path of his tongue as he moistened his mouth before he spoke once again.

“We… we need to talk.”

Her brows rose at his request, completely unprepared.

Yet, the side of her that still stung from his earlier rejection reared up, lashing angrily, and her words flew from between gritted teeth as she hissed, “We have nothing to discuss.”

“There is much that we need to speak about, and we need to resolve our issues as soon as possible.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief as she shook her head. “No. We have nothing to talk about. There is nothing-”

“Bulma… _please_.”

She paused in her upcoming tirade, caught off guard by the naked vulnerability in his voice. He sounded so… desolate, unlike his usual, confident self, and though Bulma wanted so badly to turn him away, her heart that still held him dearly was unable to ignore the pleading that she heard in his tone, the unsettling sadness that she could see clearly in his deep black eyes.

He gulped, before he spoke again. “Meet me in my chambers, an hour after the sun falls below the horizon. I shall not partake in dinner, as Kakarot and I will be training… but I will be in my chambers by then.”

She sighed, relenting, a hand flying to her chest to still the beating of her heart.

He turned away then, and Bulma followed him with her eyes, watching as he began to walk back in the direction of her father’s study.

Her heart was lodged in her throat, torn between wanting to see him again, and the heartache that was born of her being scorned. Still, she could not resist a parting shot.

“If I don’t come?” she called out. “What then, Prince Vegeta?”

He paused, not turning to face her, as he responded softly. “I will not force you. However… I truly hope that you will.”

He said nothing more as he resumed walking, and Bulma turned around, slowly moving away from him, the sound of her steps ringing hollowly in her ears.

8-8-8-8-8

Her every sensible brain cell screamed furiously at Bulma as she stood silently at the end of the hall that would lead her to Vegeta’s borrowed chambers. It was two hours after sunset, and she had been debating hopelessly with herself on whether or not she should even take his invitation, but in the end, her curiosity and her need to see him still won out.

However… it was not too late. She could still turn around. End this discussion before it could even begin.

And yet, she could _feel_ him, his presence pulsing beneath her skin, and her steps, halted as they may be, gradually led her to walk down the hall. She was taking her time, mulling over her options, but it seemed that her slow movements had bothered more than just her.

She heard the distinct creak of an opening door, before she saw him emerge from within the room, eyes frustrated as they met hers from across the way.

“Shall I carry you in, Princess?” he hissed, mouth pursed into an impatient frown.

Well, he had seen her. It was too late now.

Bulma walked at a more normal pace, and it was not long at all until she found herself standing before him, just beyond the threshold of his room.

He stepped aside, motioning her in, and Bulma had half a moment’s hesitation before she walked in, pausing to stand stiffly in the center of his room. It was as it had looked the last time, the bed shoved against a far corner, the rest of it Spartan and clean, militaristic in its every angle.

She heard Vegeta shift behind her, and she turned, watching as he hesitated, before his entire face seemed to harden in his determination. He looked at her, his eyes arrows that stabbed right through her heart and into her essence, searching her for the words that he wanted to say, but could not seem to summon.

She cleared her throat. “Well. I am here. What did you wish to speak to me about?”

He grimaced a little, before he let out a deep sigh. She watched his shoulders straighten, and a small thrill went through her as she watched one of the strongest and bravest men in the universe gather his courage for the mere act of speaking to her.

When he finally began speaking, it was in a low, mournful voice, the somber timbre catching her off guard.

“Once I leave Capsura to head into battle, I shall never more set foot upon this planet,” he said slowly, deliberately. “Once I leave, it will be the very last time, and you and I shall never meet, ever again.”

She took in a pained breath, shaking at being faced with a fact that she had always known to be true. Yet, somehow, hearing it being spoken towards her made it seem all the more… _final,_ more agonizing than she had always found the idea to be.

“I…” she began, and her voice grew quieter with every next word. “I know this, Prince Vegeta. I have always known.”

He gulped, staring hard at her, his hands trembling at his sides, and she realized that he must be feeling a lot like she was… desperate to hold on, unwilling to truly let go…

“We are heading into battle soon,” he whispered. “And I cannot… I cannot leave things like this, between us…”

“Between us?” she asked, her heart aching at the clear implication, the unfailing truth that she knew to be real, but needed to deny. “Between us, there is nothing more.”

“Are you honestly trying to tell me that you have not felt… bereft?” he asked, mouth twisting up into a frustrated snarl. “Because I have. I have felt empty… unstable, since the last time we have spoken.”

She refused to show him even a shred of unwarranted emotion, and she fought against the impulse to cross her arms over her chest, to visibly shield herself from what she now understood was going to be an agonizing exchange.

He ignored her defensiveness, swallowing audibly before he continued. “I do not wish to leave Capsura with my final memory of you being the one I have of you, leaving my chambers in rage.”

She stiffened. “I refuse to throw blame, but you can’t possibly mean to imply that such a bitter parting was my fault-”

“It was not,” he interrupted. “At least, it was not just yours. It was mine, as well. And I cannot bear to have our final words to each other be of anger.”

“What is it to you if they were?” she asked in a choked whisper, his words finally bending her will, enough to acknowledge that she had been _hurt_. “What does it matter if, in the end, all we have left is anger? If all we have left is pain?”

“It matters,” he said, “because the last thing I want is for our angst to be our last memories of each other. Admit it or not, what we had… it was… significant.”

She stood still, silent, shocked at his words.

“Vegeta,” she breathed. “What are you _saying?”_

“I am saying… that if we cannot…” he hesitated. “If we cannot become something… _more…_ we can at least part with cherished memories. So that we may never look back and see only hatred and regret.”

“You want us to part as _friends_?” she asked, the word like venom on her tongue, and she was about to argue when he began to emphatically shake his head.

“No,” he said. “For we were never simply _friends_ , were we?”

“Then what?”

“I want us to part… like the lovers that we could never be,” he said.

Bulma sucked in a pained breath.

Lovers…

Somehow, she understood that he did not mean for the word to only refer to their physical affair.

 _Lovers_ …

She knew, deep in her heart, that they were two people who, had they been given the chance, could have found beautiful _love_ with each other.

It tore at her soul to look at him now, as his request seemingly began to break him as well, and the strong angles of his face began to melt into lines of heartache, his eyes narrowed as his lips twisted in obvious _anguish_.

Her heart broke as he gazed at her, his mouth hesitating at what he wanted to say next, but like the warrior that he had always been, he gathered his resolve and spoke again.

“I want us to part like ones who…” he began, “who did not want to be apart, but had no choice. I want us to remember each other as the person that we could have never had, but the one that we wished so dearly to be with.”

“Vegeta…” she whispered, her throat catching painfully as her tears began to sting the backs of her eyes.

“And don’t even lie to me and say that it is untrue,” he growled. “You know as well as I do, that given a plausible option, you would have gone with me. As I, if at all possible, would have stayed with you.”

“Why… why are you telling me this?” she asked, her voice low, shaking with her emotions. “Why now?”

“I needed to get it off my chest, or it will destroy me… it may literally kill me on the battlefield, if I were to depart with all this… this… doubt…” he answered. “And even if I were to survive the war, I do not want to forever live in regret that I never reconciled with you.”

“We should never have started this,” Bulma said. “We have gotten in way too deep. This is much more than I anticipated-”

“And yet, I will not wish to change a single thing,” he interrupted. “I now accept, that you are married to Kakarot. And it was foolish of me to try to lure you, to offer to take you away from here. It was selfish of me. But you cannot blame me for trying, Bulma.”

“Why?” she begged. “Tell me _why,_ Vegeta.”

He stilled, before he looked down, his shoulders slumping as if in defeat.

“Because,” he said softly, sadly. “Because I so badly wanted to have you become _mine.”_

A single, choked sob was followed by another… and another… and soon, Bulma was clutching her chest, trying to keep her heart from imploding from her pain as she finally gave in, letting the tears out, crying heavily as his words filled her with sorrow … regret… longing….

She didn’t know when he moved, but she was barely even surprised when she found herself being held by Vegeta’s arms, his chest warm and solid and delightful upon her shaking form. She pitifully buried her face against him as she kept crying, her fingers madly grasping at the thick muscles of the arms that caged her.

Her sobs _hurt,_ her chest heaving as the grief left stinging sensations across her heart and mind, and she couldn’t stop the pathetic whine that left her as she wept against him, finally yielding…

“Vegeta… I… I am so sorry,” she whispered hoarsely as her tears left her throat raw. “I wish for the same thing. I… I also wish that there could have been a way.”

Her tears continued to flow carelessly down her cheeks, much in the same way as her words now spilled impulsively out of her lips.

“I want you. I want you with me, so, so badly,” she cried. “But we can’t. We can’t be together.”

He tightened his hold on her, and she could feel a deep rumble radiate from the very center of his chest before he buried his face into her hair, murmuring words to console her as he too tried to glean comfort from her.

“I-” he muttered, only to break off on a growl. “Bulma…”

“Vegeta,” she moaned, moving to wrap her arms around him, trying but unable to stop crying. “Why does it have to be like this?”

He stayed silent, but his arms tightened around her, and she felt him rocking them from side to side, like he was singing her a silent lullaby, and even through the silence, she could hear the song emanating from deep within his soul.

It was a song of love, the tone clear in her head even while the words remained mute, and she held on to him, listening to the rhythm that flowed with every beat of his heart.

She needed him. She needed him so badly…

“Vegeta,” she whispered, her lips moving to press reverently against his chest, brushing against the thin cloth of his sleep clothes. “Let me… let me hold you. Let me be yours again, tonight.”

“I… I can’t,” he mourned, and she stiffened, about to pull away.

However, he held on, clarifying. “You were never mine. And you never will be. But… _you_ own _me.”_

She sobbed, pulling back to look at him as he sighed, his eyes closed in something akin to defeat, and it broke her into a thousand pieces to see him look so… hopeless.

“Show me,” he muttered, as he lowered his head to meet her eyes, a single tear making a slow trek down his cheek. “Show _me_ , how completely you possess me… one last time.”

She nodded as his lips fell upon hers, her tears mingling with his solitary tear, and she moaned sadly against him as she felt him move until they were both standing near the edge of his bed.

“Vegeta,” she whispered, his name a soft breath of air from her lips, a solemn prayer that he answered with another light touch of his lips.

He pulled away, and Bulma watched, transfixed, as he began to strip, the clothes sliding seductively down his body as he slowly revealed himself to her.

She did the same, slipping out of her thin dress, eagerly divesting herself of her underclothes while he stood unmoving, nude and painfully beautiful, before her.

As she undressed, she saw his eyes pause on her necklace, his generous gift to her, and she watched as a happy sparkle lit up the obsidian depths of his eyes. She knew that he understood, that keeping the necklace on her, was her only way of keeping a part of him with her.

When they were both naked, she moved forward, running the back of one hand against the skin of his chest, while the other moved to delve among the thick dark strands of his hair.

She leaned up, capturing his lips with hers while his hands moved to clutch her waist, as he stepped closer to let her feel his warmth against her body.

Bulma turned her face away from him, before she laid a single hand on the center of his chest, and gently pushed him back.

He followed her silent command, sitting at the edge of the mattress as she moved over him, kneeling at the floor beside the bed, laying her hands on either side of his narrow hips.

His stomach heaved in anticipation, and Bulma felt at once powerful and desired, her eyes devouring him as she knew he had done to her body on all the times that they had been together.

She stared, unabashed, at the corded lines of muscle on his arms, at the defined cuts along his thighs, and at the chiseled sections of his abdomen. His chest rose and fell with his breaths, and as she roved her eyes over him, she watched his nipples tighten, his manhood quickly rising with his ardor.

She reached forward, wanting to feel him, her touch slow and hesitant, but determined all the same.

As Bulma wrapped her small hand around him, Vegeta groaned, throwing his head back, leaning on arms that he had braced against the bed.

He was divine, writhing sensuously as she tightened her grip carefully, moving so she could caress his every ridge, feeling the contrast of the soft skin and hard muscle of his body.

“Bu- Bulma,” he groaned, and she looked up, meeting his eyes as she began to pump him lightly, delighting in the way he grit his teeth and convulsively tightened his hold on the sheets.

She watched as his body wept, and curious, she leaned closer, running her thumb over the tip of him and watching the liquid bead on her finger.

“Ah,” he gasped, his hips moving against her hold as she moved to grip him with both hands. “Bulma… Bulma…”

She wanted to learn more about him… and she pushed back the thoughts about this being her last chance to do so, as she moved and shyly, slowly, stuck out her tongue and gave him a quick lick.

She was not prepared for how he madly bucked against her, one hand moving to twist into the blue strands of her hair.

Emboldened, she blew a soft breath on him, placing a kiss on the reddened tip, before she bravely moved to wrap her lips around him.

“Bulma!” he hissed, bowing around her as she loved him with her mouth, tried to embed the memory of his taste into her mind as she carefully moved to hold him with her palms and suck him with her lips.

Her breasts heaved as she worked him, and in a strange stroke of inspiration, she moved so that he was between her breasts, caressing him with her smooth orbs as she kissed and licked him with increasing pressure and intensity.

He was growling now, groaning as if he was in pain, and she felt herself begin to drip in need, in want, as the sounds of his pleasure rang within her head, a beautiful melody caressing her ears.

Vegeta was _hers._

“Stop,” he gasped, gently pulling on her hair. “Stop, please, Bulma. I am… I am about to…”

She didn’t listen, but instead, doubled her efforts, feeling her blood rush to her cheeks, drunk on the sounds of his imploring voice, at the spastic movements that heralded his approaching orgasm.

Finally, she let go as she felt him about to fall off the edge, caressing him as she moved to straddle him on the bed, her wetness grazing his hardness as she sat on his upper thighs.

“Vegeta,” she sighed, locking her lips with his, her tongue seeking to devour his essence. She braced her hands upon his shoulders, moving down to take him into her body.

She moved slowly, torturously slowly, gazing deep into his eyes as she delighted in every inch of him moving into her. When he was in her, she rolled her hips, watching him narrow his eyes as a pleasured hiss slipped from between his tightly gritted teeth.

Bulma writhed, raising herself before she took him fully again, and as she kneeled on either sides of his hips, she felt him buck up into her, burying himself deeply into her core.

“Oh!” she gasped, before breaking into a moan as she felt him begin to move faster beneath her, setting a delicious rhythm as they moved against each other, their sweat dripping down their bodies as they both leisurely clamored for their peaks.

Vegeta was moaning, grunting in needy pleasure… His questing lips took one of her nipples into his mouth, and Bulma let out a shrill little yelp as he suckled tenderly on the sensitive tip.

“Vegeta!” she called, wrapping her arms so, so tightly around him, feeling his heart beat madly against her own galloping heart. She closed her eyes, burrowing her face onto the side of his neck.

A particularly rough thrust from him made her throw her head back with a scream, and as she buried her face back against his neck, she tasted the sweat on his skin, making her hungry for more.

Completely robbed of control, she opened her mouth against him, gently biting his shoulder.

He roared as her teeth touched him, and she felt him move rapidly, so fast that she didn’t even know what happened until she found herself with her back flat upon the bed.

With speed that she was unable to follow, he had flipped her legs up to rest against his shoulders, and Bulma screamed, long and loud, as he suddenly impaled her once again.

He rode her as she clawed madly at his skin, her voice growing hoarse from shouting his name, and she stared into his eyes as she felt him move a hand to softly caress her center while he plunged repeatedly into her.

With that touch of his fingers, Bulma stiffened, her vision turning white as she shook, crying out his name as her world narrowed until all there was, was Vegeta…

She felt him shudder as he came, as he pressed harder against her while his hands grasped her waist, his mouth open in a harsh shout while his unfathomable dark eyes were trained only on her.

Soon, she found herself laying on his chest, her hand apologetically ghosting over the bruise that she had left on his shoulder. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breaths, but before she could get her breathing under control, she felt Vegeta move again, turning her so she laid face down on the bed as he hovered over her from behind.

She felt his lips travel up and down her back, before she felt him nudge her thighs apart, and he once again entered her. All she could do was sigh in pleasure as he moved within her again…

All through the night, she gave in to him again and again, silently screaming in her heart…

Vegeta belonged to her…

And she knew, soul-deep, that her heart belonged to no one but him.

8-8-8-8-8

With less than a week to go before the troops depart for battle, Bulma pulled up her notes on the ki-shield cuff extensions, and handed them over to Dr. Gero. For the entire day, she stayed with him and his family, all brilliant scientists, as they hashed out plans on how to integrate the technology and make it powerful enough to encapsulate an entire planet.

Vegeta had told her – as they said their goodbyes, that morning – that he would be training with Goku for the entire day. True to his word, he had been scarce, and only the sounds of small explosions in a distant mountain range told Bulma of his whereabouts.

As for her, she had given him fair warning that she and Gero will be experimenting with ki shields, and he should not panic should her ki suddenly disappear in the midst of it all.

Having parted positively, Bulma and Vegeta had no plans to meet again, mutually agreeing that the previous night was to be their last. However, Bulma’s heart was overflowing with so many emotions that, late the following night, as she ran her fingers across her ki-shield cuffs in quiet contemplation, a naughty thought entered her mind.

She remembered how he had often surprised her in the past, when she was unable to feel his ki.

Perhaps, she can sneak up on him now?

She would not engage him, but she knew that if he felt her ki approach, he would flee.

All she needed was to _see_ him again.

With a mischievous smirk, she put the cuffs on, turning the dial to the appropriate level that would effectively mask her energy.

Giggling quietly, Bulma practically danced giddily across the halls, muffling her snickers as she approached his room, intending on knocking a mere second before powering down the cuffs. She knew that he could possibly smell her coming, but she was banking on his confusion or distraction to prevent him from detecting her.

He would be alone and resting by then, and Bulma was excited to see the surprise in his face, for once.

However…

As Bulma approached the hall leading to his room, a sensation akin to a jump flitted shortly through her chest. She did not understand how, but somehow, she knew that something was making Vegeta upset.

Hastening her steps, she moved forward, until she stood outside his chambers, where she heard muffled voices coming from within.

Curious, she stepped up to the doorway, her lips turning down into a frown when she realized that Vegeta’s voice was _angry._   

“…used me because you were too weak?”

She hesitantly moved closer, curious…

Her eyes widened when she heard a very familiar voice answer.

“Calm down, Vegeta,” she heard Goku, and Bulma clasped a hand to her lips as she fought back a confused gasp.

What could Goku and Vegeta be discussing, to make Vegeta so angry?

“Calm down?” Vegeta snarled. “You dare… you mock me. You, and your fucking father-in-law, King Trunks. You demean me with your assumptions. And the only reason I stand for it, is to keep her from getting hurt.”

“ _Her?”_ Bulma thought, bewildered. Could they…

“You know that Bulma would be devastated, if she were to ever find out about your game,” Vegeta said, confirming her suspicions.

They were fighting about _her._

“It was the only way, Vegeta,” Goku said. “And I just needed to know if you went ahead with King Trunks’ request.”

“No, I did not,” Vegeta said. “I did not persuade her to stop taking her contraceptive medicine.”

Bulma clutched her mouth more tightly with her hand, trying her damnedest to keep silent.

She wanted to cry, as a million conclusions ran through her head, but instead, she froze against the wall beside the door, straining to hear more. She had been lucky so far, that both men seemed to be too distracted to smell or otherwise sense her.

“What was the point of you carrying on, then?” Goku asked. “King Trunks needed an heir… and he was not going to get it from me. He had asked you to sire one with Bulma. I know you had not stopped sleeping with her. Hell, Vegeta, I smell her so strongly in your room right now!”

“I was not _sleeping with her_ to indulge your sick requests,” Vegeta snarled. “I was sleeping with her because… because…”

“What?” Goku asked. “Why?”

“Don’t you fucking turn this around on me!” Vegeta yelled. “Kakarot, you hypocrite. You should have just asked the King to never wed you to her, if you had known that you would never be able to be a husband to her.”

“I don’t want to hurt her,” Goku answered. “She’s my friend.”

“Your friend?” Vegeta asked, and Bulma heard the fury in his tone as he carried on, his voice so low that she barely heard him. “What kind of a friend – of a man – are you… to curse her into such a life? To expect her to have a bastard child that you  would claim to be your own… because you cannot even be a decent mate, because you cannot even try to fuck her yourself!”

“Don’t talk as if you were the noblest of men, Vegeta! This situation only came up because we found out that you were having an affair. If you hadn’t been going behind my back and- and- _screwing_ Bulma in the first place, this would never have happened!”

“Our affair is _over_!” Vegeta snarled. “That you smell her here… last night, was the last night that I will ever touch her. I will never touch her again. I refuse to be the man to make her heart bleed with her guilt. I will not willingly make her do something that to her mind is the basest of sins.”

“You had already been-”

“What kind of a man pimps out his own wife?” Vegeta roared.  

“The kind who does not cheat on his marriage, the kind who does not have sex with someone else's wife!” Goku defended.

Vegeta began to laugh, a cruel, sarcastic laugh that made the hairs on Bulma’s nape stand on end. “You expect me to believe that you are faithful to her? When you come home from a week-long trip reeking of another woman? How often do these _breaches_ happen, Kakarot?”

“You dare...” Goku hissed. “I have not touched Chichi since I married Bulma.”

“Your loyalty strays far from Bulma,” Vegeta answered. “And though you deny yourself carnal pleasure with Patatas, or _Chichi_ , as you refer to her, we both know that your heart has been with her for eight fucking years! And that you allowed yourself to be married when you belong to another… it is an inconceivable cowardice, Kakarot.”

“What could I have done? Huh?” Goku dared. “What could I have done in that situation, when King Trunks needed Bulma to be married off?”

 “You could have left Bulma alone, so that she _could have been MINE!”_ Vegeta screamed.

Sheer, agonizing fury flowed through his every syllable, and finally, in spite of her most valiant efforts, Bulma lost the fight against her emotions, and let slip a single, heartbroken sob.

She heard all the commotion within the room come to a freezing halt, and a second later, the door burst open, revealing an ashen-faced Vegeta.

He stared at her in horror, mouth agape.

Bulma stared at him, her eyes locked into his guilty, horrified gaze, barely minding Goku as he too ran out, calling her name.

She shook her head, the hurt and treachery seizing her, strangling her. “I… I can’t believe…”

“Bulma,” Vegeta whispered, taking a step towards her, and Bulma recoiled, fearing his touch.

Vegeta and Goku… they had both lied to her…

Goku had another woman. He had known about her and Vegeta’s affair.

And Vegeta…

He _knew_ , about Goku… He knew that her own father knew that they had been together! And yet, he never said anything! She had been agonizing over her sins, scalded by her secrets, and all this time… they all knew!

Her father had even tried to ask him to impregnate her, and he _never told her._

What other secrets could he have concealed from her?

“How… how could you?” she asked, and her tears began to fall, scalding and untamed, down her cheeks. “How could you? Both of you?”

She turns away, hearing Vegeta step forward to go after her, her name a strangled sound from his throat.

“Leave me alone. Please,” she begged. “I… I need to be alone.”

She walked away, the silence behind her deafening, and when she was sure that she was finally out of their sight, her legs began to move faster…

She ran, her heart pounding in her chest, her emotions rioting as she shook in disbelief at the betrayal.

“No!” she cried softly as she ran, choking on her tears, dying inside at the humiliation… the indignity…

She wanted to shout… to cry and throw a fit, but she held her lips closed with her shaking hands, her eyes stinging from the salt of her pain.

Bulma kept running… and it was not until she was winded, worn out, that she finally stopped…

Only to find herself standing in the middle of a decimated field, a long stretch of devastated land that Vegeta had once used to show off his strength and power.

Vegeta…

She fell onto her knees, her hands pounding uselessly at the ground, while she sobbed and wailed uncontrollably, shoulders heaving in exhaustion while her stomach lurched in disgust.

She grasped at her tightening throat, and through the cloth of her dress, she felt her necklace, the gems round and smooth… but right then, the beads felt like burning coals beneath her fingertips…

With her soul bleeding, she threw her head back, and let out a furious, helpless scream.

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	7. Enlightened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma withdraws into herself in the wake of so much betrayal. Yet, someone is determined to make her understand that not all were as they seemed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I know it has been forever since I updated this story, and I'm sorry!  
> This is the first chapter of this fic to not follow a smutfest prompt. The next prompt will be in the next chapter. Also, this is a long and conversation-heavy chapter, but I hope you like it!  
> Shoutout to my amazing beta, Blacksheep115!

The Princess was sick.

She had locked herself into a distant tower of the palace, a strict quarantine wherein no one was allowed to see her, not even her father, the King.

At least, that was what the entire kingdom had been told.

No one but the monarchy knew the real cause for Bulma’s self-imposed isolation.

With only four days to go until the long-awaited and much-dreaded departure of the Capsuran forces, the scientists were short one crucial member. In spite of this, Bulma had no intentions of coming out, not until after the soldiers left the planet.

She did not want to see anyone.

Not her father or mother...

Not Goku…

And most especially, not Vegeta.

She was deeply hurt, utterly humiliated, and after she had tearfully burst into her father’s throne room to let him know how much she loathed him for what he had tried to have done to her, she had hidden away, barricaded behind the most powerful force fields that she had managed to come up with.

Vegeta had called out to her beyond the barrier, but she ignored him, crying bitterly as she tried to block his voice out of her head. He may have tried to defend her, but she was also furious at him for keeping such a thing a secret from her.

She had thought… she had thought that she could trust him.

Every day, she felt his frustrations, felt his agony and anger tearing through her heart and screaming through her mind. His doubts at feeling like he was not quite powerful enough to win this final battle was compounded with the melancholy he felt at her turning him away, and all in all, she knew he was a mess, understood it as she saw the evidence of his explosive temper decimating several far-off land masses.  

She could feel him hovering beyond her barricade daily, his emotions so raw that she felt their fingers reaching out to try to hold her, pull her closer…

The pessimistic part of her angrily surmised that he was there to _lull_ her into another false sense of peace against the warmth of his chest, to poison her mind with his platitudes of wanting her to be his, always…

It was strange, how she now _felt_ him like he was constantly beside her, how she could sense his presence even as she tried to denounce her thoughts and feelings for him. She tried to burn her fondness for him in a mental pyre, to set it ablaze and reduce it to nothing but ashes, but it felt like she was doing nothing more than failing to light a thin match, unable to even start destroying the memories of him and all their wonderful moments together.

Perhaps, it was true what they say… one cannot fix a problem, until they acknowledge its existence.

It seemed to Bulma now, that if she wanted to forget Vegeta, she had to first acknowledge one thing that she had known, but had been fighting, all along.

With Vegeta, it was not mere lust… it was not just her loneliness and rebellion against her life that had pushed her into his arms.

The initial pull of attraction as she first saw him had already grown beyond mere physicality, perhaps even before she had allowed him to possess her, spread out upon the cold steel of her laboratory worktable.

The pounding of her heart as she watched him smile after she accepted the beaded necklace from him, was more than petty excitement at acquiring pretty new jewelry.

It wasn't the gift that made her giddy. It was the thought… and the _man_ who gave her the gift.

Bulma cherished it, because she cherished _him._

But oh gods, what a terrible punishment for her crime of infidelity! To truly know her heart, right as she was honor-bound to turn her back on the only person to make it truly beat.

She loved him, yearned for him… longed to once again be lost in the peace of their quiet moments together, to feel those light kisses that he would flutter upon her cheeks. She needed to see him grin in that way that told her of how proud he was of her. She wanted the tranquility that filled her soul whenever he was near, his reassuring caress that made her feel like even amidst the chaos, everything was going to be alright.

It was utterly unfair, that should she decide to stay with the man she loved, she would bring desecrating humiliation to the entire monarchy of Capsura. It was her obligation to uphold the honor of the royal family, and beyond her selfish wants, she needed to consider the future of her planet.

Her family be damned, for what they have conspired to do to her. However, she cannot let their rulership crumble, because the other people who crave the throne are corrupt and would bring about the ruin of her land. She had an obligation to fulfill, and she cannot let her people lose faith in King Trunks, and in her and Goku as his successors.

Her hatred for her father simmered furiously in her chest, for the lengths that he had gone to ruin her life, to rob her of choice, and now to destroy the faith that she had in Vegeta.

The bottom line was, she felt betrayed by Vegeta, and no matter how dearly she held him in her heart, she was angry at him for keeping such a secret from her; and even if she had never found out about his reluctant treachery, she could never be with him, anyway, no matter how much she wished to stay with him.

She looked out her large tinted glass window, seeing the light from the slowly setting sun as it meandered about the horizon, and she sighed, forlornly walking to her bed, tucking herself in beneath the covers.

The sadness was making her world dark and painful… and she knew it was not going to go away. Sleep was her only escape, and though Bulma had never been a coward, she knew when it was futile to fight. She closed her eyes, letting the exhaustion of her loneliness claim her, yet another tear sliding down her cheek before she succumbed to the darkness.

8-8-8-8-8

Persistent knocking woke Bulma from her slumber, late at night. She stirred, annoyed and confused, wondering who would have the audacity to disturb her peaceful rest.

“What is so impossible to understand about ‘ _leave me alone’_?” she muttered mutinously under her breath, before she approached the door, and called out, “Who is it?”

“Princess?” the visitor spoke up, “It is Dr. Gero.”

“Dr. Gero?” she asked, brows rising in surprise.. “What are you doing here so late?”

“I…” he hesitated. “I have a problem, Princess.”

Bulma looked towards the door, confused. “About the shield? I thought you were almost done?”

“Well… yes. But my wife and I ran into some unexpected issues with how to compile our data to ensure that the shields would let beams _out,_ but not _in_ ,” he explained. “I was hoping you could help me with this small bit of code…”

“I am in quarantine, Dr.,” Bulma replied. She had to keep up appearances, after all. “I cannot come out to see you.”

“I have extensive vaccinations, Princess,” he answered. “And I promise that I will, personally, take only very little of your time.”

Against her better judgment, Bulma began to unlatch the door, in the process, disabling her shield. It was activated by the locking mechanism on the door lock, and she figured, Vegeta was nowhere near, so he could not barge into her space –

No sooner had the thought entered her mind, when the door was swiftly pushed wide open as she felt a sudden whoosh of air rush past her. Her jaw dropped as she turned in shock, immediately recognizing the fact that she had been tricked.

“G-Goku?!” she screamed in rage as she regarded her husband, standing in the center of the room, dressed in simple house clothes of a deep orange hue. She turned accusing eyes at Gero, who stood straight and clearly nervous on the other side of the door. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I apologize, Princess,” Gero said. “But I did this on orders from the Duke.”

“No!” she yelled, turning back to Goku. “Get out! You cannot do this to me!”

“I’m sorry, Bulma,” Goku spoke, determinedly standing his ground, arms crossed before his chest. “We need to talk.”

“There is _nothing,”_ Bulma hissed, “that we need to talk about –”

“Dr. Gero,” Goku spoke loudly, giving Bulma a glimpse of the warrior, the _leader,_ within the man whom to her had been nothing more than a goofy childhood friend. “Thank you. You can go now. We can’t risk you catching Bulma’s flu.”

Bulma looked at the half Saiyan, her fury making her palpitate, disbelieving of the fact that she had just been outsmarted by _Goku._ She cannot leave, unless she wanted to cast doubt upon her lie about being sick.

“Yes Dr.,” she hissed. “Please do go far away from here. I would _hate_ for you to have to go through what I am currently going through.”

Goku winced at her words, and both simply stared at each other as they heard Dr. Gero’s steps move farther and farther away, until they were sure that there was no way he could possibly overhear anything they had to say.

Bulma opened her mouth, about to raise hell upon her untrustworthy childhood friend, but he beat her to the punch, silencing her fury.

“I felt betrayed too, Bulma,” he said quietly, and her words died in her throat as she watched his face twist into one of pain, a disbelieving disappointment that she was only too familiar with, as it was something she had agonized over, in the past few days. “I was stunned, when I found out.”

Bulma swallowed, realizing that in her indignation, she had nearly forgotten that this all started because of her indiscretions, her _treason_. “How did you…”

“When I came home from the breach,” he answered. “I… I heard you and Vegeta. In the – _our_ bedroom.”

Bulma felt the blood drain from her face, her hands shooting up to hold in a mortified gasp. “You… you _heard_ us?”

Goku’s face had gone red, from anger or humiliation, she couldn't tell. He nodded, his gaze leaving hers, staring unfocused at nothing. “I got home in the evening, instead of in the morning. So, I was there, outside the door, while you… while you…”

“Oh gods,” Bulma whispered, shocked, embarrassed beyond words. She could do nothing but shake her head, tears of shame and contrition gathering in her eyes. “I… I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry…”

“I was hurt, Bulma,” he confessed. “I know that our marriage was a sham, but I had tried to be loyal to you. I thought you had been the same, to me.”

“Goku,” she pleaded. “I had been… I _was_. It was only with Vegeta…”

“I guess I could say that I understand,” he said. “I saw the way you looked at him, on that first day. I knew that he made you happy when he showed your inventions off to King Trunks.”

“It was inexcusable,” she said, a lone teardrop making its way down her cheek. “I should not have… It was wrong of me.”

“I hadn’t touched another woman since we married,” he continued, before surprising her with his next words. “No matter how much I wished I could.”

Bulma choked on a breath, eyes wide as she stared at Goku. He turned his stare back to her, his eyes glum, breaths rapidly blowing out his parted lips.

“What… what do you mean?” she asked. Was there someone out there that Goku wanted to be with?  

He stared a moment longer at her before he gulped, shaking his head before he reached up to hold her hand, leading her until they both sat at the edge of her temporary bed.

“Bulma,” he began. “I know that I am not your favorite person right now, but… But I need you to promise me that you will be understanding, with what I will be telling you now.”

She nodded, breath held tightly in her throat as the anticipation and dread for whatever he was about to tell her washed over her.

Goku shifted, holding both her hands in his, before he straightened, looking determinedly at her.

“You have been my friend for a very long time, Bulma,” he said. “I tell you everything. But I never told you about what really happened at the third insurrection.”

“The one you went to, eight years ago?”

He nodded. “Now, you have to remember that this was all before we got married.”

Her brows furrowed as suspicion, along with a strange sort of understanding, came over her. “Is it about this… this Saiyan lady that both you and Vegeta had mentioned to me? Chichi?”

Goku hesitated a moment, paling slightly as he tried to speak again. “Yes.”

“You are… in love with her?”

“Not just that. Bulma…” he said, and Bulma felt his hands tighten around hers as he continued. “Chichi is… Chichi is my wife.”

Her heart almost stopped, eyes wide in stunned puzzlement as she stared at Goku. “What? I don’t… I don’t understand! _I_ am your wife!”

“On Capsura, yes,” Goku said. “But you see… On Vegeta-sei, they don’t follow the same laws and rituals. They don’t really have many rituals, at all.”

“Are you saying that you married a woman on Vegeta-sei… and then you married me here too?”

“No,” Goku said. “I didn’t _marry_ Chichi. I… I _claimed_ her. And she claimed me, too.”

“Goku, forgive me,” Bulma interjected, raising a hand to her forehead as she felt her head begin to twinge painfully. “I don’t understand-”

“Saiyans don’t do things the way Capsurans do,” he tried to explain. “There are usually no big ceremonies. Saiyans just choose someone they want to stay with, then… then claim each other.”

“What is a claim?” Bulma asked. “And this Chichi… she is your _claimed_ woman?”

“Claiming is the Saiyans’ way of choosing a life partner. As for Chichi…,” Goku said, eyes darting away from her to stare at their hands, before he looked back up at her again, his face at once scared and determined. “Chichi is my claimed woman, yes. Also, Chichi and I… we have a son.”

Bulma wrenched her hands away from Goku as if the mere thought of his touch had burned her, indignant vexation running through her veins.

“A son?” she growled, her face twisting in disbelief and bafflement. “You have a son? A fucking son?”

“Yes,” he said. “We had him before… before you and I were married.”

“Goku,” she shook her head, incredulous. “You have an entire _family,_ in space?”

“I had planned to stay with them, Bulma,” he said, eyes wide and pleading as he leaned forward, splaying his hands flat upon the mattress before them. “Chichi was raising our son alone, and I was asking King Trunks if he could allow me to stay in space with them, when he ordered me to marry you.”

She felt all her blood rush back up into her face, her fury making her hands visibly shake. Her throat had dried from her vehemence, and she stuttered, tongue strangely stiff as she spoke. “He knew? My father _knew_? And he still… he still made us marry?”

He nodded. “And I tried to say no, but I am a subject of Capsura. I can’t refuse.”

“And what of your _family,”_ she hissed. “Did you just abandon them, then?”

“A little,” Goku said, scratching at the back of his head. “I see them… once a year.”

“The yearly security trips,” she spat, quickly connecting the annual reunions to Goku’s trips to secure the planetary barriers. “Those were not real security trips. You were going off to see your family?”

He nodded. “Chichi and our son come over once a year. It was the one concession that King Trunks had allowed. I promised him I wouldn't bring disgrace to the royal family, but I need to see my _real_ family, too.”

“This is preposterous,” Bulma said, fazed. “Did he honestly expect you to live the rest of your life with this kind of situation? And what did he plan for you and _me?_ Did my father expect you to someday sire an heir with me, knowing that you have another wife?”

He sighed, clearly distraught. “Yes. But I knew I couldn’t… I _wouldn’t_ touch you, Bulma. It wouldn’t be fair to you… nor to me, and Chichi. I told King Trunks that, but I think that your father thought that I eventually would.”

“This is… absolutely despicable,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the disgusted chills that were crawling through her veins. “How is your wife so understanding of this?

Goku smiled, a far away, fond look in his eyes. In that instant, Bulma knew for sure that he was thinking of his Saiyan wife, a strong, independent woman who had been raising a part-Capsuran child by herself for all these years.

When he finally spoke, he looked… proud. “Chichi is really tough and smart. She understands duty and obligation. She knows I had no choice. She knows that I hate what is happening. And she didn’t stop me when she knew that my honor, and the future of our planet, was at stake.”

“Then she is a far stronger woman than I,” Bulma said. “I couldn’t even bear to imagine having another woman be with Vege-”

She paused in her words, surprised. She had gone through it before, imagining what it would be like to have Vegeta lay in the arms of another woman, and it had been _painful._ The jealousy – as she recognized it to be now – had ripped through her heart, nearly making her cry in the presence of her parents. It was an irrational feeling, since what she had with Vegeta was ultimately nothing legitimate, but just an adulterous relationship _._

Even harsher was the fact that she had felt jealous rage over the imaginary woman holding Vegeta, but did not feel a single shred of resentment towards the woman who had an actual child with her _husband_.  

She cleared her throat, not quite brave enough to throw word of her infidelity around in front of Goku. However, a stressing question that had been nagging at her since she found out about Goku’s knowledge of her affair had just pushed itself to the fore of her mind, and before she could stop herself, she spoke, “How does Vegeta fit in, with all this? Did you send him here with the intent to seduce me?”

This had been her most painful question… Was Vegeta sent there to seduce her, on Goku’s behalf?

The smart part of her knew it to be unlikely, but the part of her that was hurting over the events of the past few days was a paranoid mess. She had assumed from what she overheard that Vegeta had not initially intended to bed her, but… how was he involved, truly?

Goku shook his head, and Bulma noted how wide his eyes had gotten, how he practically stuttered to get his words out in haste. “N-no! That wasn’t it, Bulma.”

“Then explain it to me,” she demanded. “Because as much as I am sorry to have hurt you, Goku, I was devastated by what I heard you discussing. And… after all that you have told me now, about a life that I never knew you had beyond Capsura… I believe that I also deserve answers.”

He motioned her closer, so they were sitting beside each other again. Then, Goku looked down at his lap, mumbling. “Vegeta legitimately came to Capsura, only to ask for help with the war. His… sleeping with you… was not part of his plan.”

She too, looked down at her lap, her heart pounding in her chest, her breaths lodged in her throat as she eagerly awaited what Goku had to say. He was quiet for a while, taking deep, calming breaths, before he began again.

“Vegeta didn’t know about what had happened with me and Chichi. Chichi is a third class Saiyan warrior and is not on Vegeta’s radar, so to speak,” he said. “He did not know that I was married here, and he did not know about you. But when he first saw you… I saw his attraction to you, from the very first day.”

She tried, and nearly failed, to conceal the small sob that threatened to erupt from her lips, and instead focused more intently on Goku’s words.

“When he started asking about you, I knew that I was right in my suspicions. He was _very_ interested in you. And then suddenly, he stopped talking about you, the day after he first showed King Trunks your invention.”

That was the day after their very first encounter…

“Then, he became really strange about it. Evasive… And when I overheard you in our bedroom, I realized that it was because Vegeta had made a move, and you had accepted,” he continued. “It began to make sense to me, how he seemed to always know when you were approaching, far before I ever did. He had attuned his senses to you, because he _wanted_ you.”

A fleeting sensation of giddiness flitted through her then, incredibly flattered by Goku’s thoughts about Vegeta’s motives. But before she allowed the encroaching happiness to blind her, she needed to know…

“And… how did my father find out?” she asked. “I suppose it was you who told him.”

“It was. But not just because I wanted to snitch,” he answered. “I was angry at first, because, out of my respect for you, I had not touched Chichi since you and I got married. So I felt like an idiot and wanted to _do_ something.”

 _“I deserved that,”_ Bulma thought as she winced at the barely concealed accusation.  

“And then I thought,” Goku continued, “maybe this was a good thing. I told King Trunks because… I was hoping that, now that you have found someone that you _want_ to be with, maybe he can release _me…_ So I can be with the woman _I_ want to be with.”

His face fell suddenly, a haunted desperation that Bulma recognized, having felt it so keenly in the past few days… Ever since she realized how much she wanted to be with Vegeta, and how impossible it was going to be. She realized in the next moment, that the conversation clearly did not go the way Goku had anticipated.

Goku looked like he had swallowed something sour as he spoke. “When I told him, he looked calm… too calm. Then he asked me to call Vegeta into his office. Then…”

He gulped. “Then, he told Vegeta, that he now knew what he wanted in exchange for Capsura’s support. King Trunks wanted Vegeta to continue your affair, and he had to give you a child so that your royal line would have an heir.”

Though she had no doubts about the outcome of the discussion, Bulma felt her heart completely shatter at her father’s callousness, at his selfishness and utter disregard for her life and feelings. She felt used, insulted, and beyond all that, she felt… like she was _nothing._ Like she was nothing more than décor, a silly little toy…

“And Vegeta refused?” Bulma surmised. “This is what I understood, from what I heard.”

“He refused. Adamantly,” Goku said. “King Trunks threatened to stop supporting him, and Vegeta said that he would leave if that was what he had to do, because he couldn’t do that to you. And he did stay away from you for a few days, I remember. The first time he came near you again was that day when you used the ki cuffs on yourself.”

“Yes,” Bulma nodded numbly. “That’s right.”

“Then, when I smelled you on him again a few days later,” Goku said, “I went to his room to ask him if you were together again, if he had changed his mind. That night when you overheard us… Your scent was _everywhere_ in that room, so when you approached with your ki cloaked, we didn’t sense you.”

“I was going over there to sneak in on him as a prank,” Bulma said. “I didn’t realize that you would be there.”

“And the fact that Vegeta never even felt you approach must have meant that I really distracted him,” he added, looking up to ceiling with a puzzled look on his face. “Because I am sure that he would have sensed you otherwise, even if your ki was cloaked. He would have sensed your distress… would have smelled you even through the scents in the room.”

She frowned deeper at this comment. “What do you mean? How could he have sensed me when his every sense was overwhelmed?”

“Because, Bulma,” Goku responded, looking back down to meet her eyes, a grin on his lips. “He would have sensed your aura.”

“My… my aura?”

“Your aura. Like, the essence of what makes you, _you_. It’s what happens when a claim is made, especially after the claim is returned,” he explained, making Bulma rear back in surprise.

“Claim?” she asked. “He never…”

Goku however, didn’t seem to hear her, and simply kept speaking, his grin widening in his amusement. “You know what I find strange about the claiming?” he asked. “They call it “claiming”, but really, when the first person places the claiming bite on their partner, it is like they just let them know that they want them, and that they are _theirs_ now. But not the other way around _.”_

 _“_ What _?”_ Bulma asked, confused.

He chuckled. “Let’s take, me and Chichi. She bit me with a claim, so I freaked out at first because I thought it meant that I had no choice, I was hers, end of discussion. But it doesn’t work that way. When Chichi claimed me, she let me know that she wanted me to be hers, but she was kinda already mine because she was never gonna look for anyone else. It wasn’t until I returned the claim, agreed to be _with_ her, that I became bound to her, as well.

“Goku,” Bulma tried to halt him, placing a hand on his thigh, but he just went on.

“Saiyans are free-willed people,” he said, a strangely enlightened look in his sparkling eyes. “Their claiming is this way, to make sure that no one is bound to another without their consent. It isn’t like a ‘ _you’re mine, now’_ bite, it is an _‘I want you to be mine’_. After Chichi claimed me, she could tell how I was doing, at any given time. She was more attuned to me. And when I finally accepted, it was like… I could feel her in me all the time, too.”

“Goku!” she finally called more loudly. “I don’t understand… Are you saying… that Vegeta claimed me?”

“It’s not something _I_ could tell you, Bulma,” Goku answered. “You need to ask him, yourself.”

“Goku, please,” Bulma begged, grabbing his shoulders to ground him again, knowing that Goku’s mind had a tendency to fly off aimlessly. She was desperate to know more, to understand. “You need to tell me. What do you mean, you could feel her in you?”

He paused, considering. “Like… I know when she’s upset. When she’s hurt. I know when she misses me, and I know when she’s angry. It’s like-”

“Like you could feel the other person’s emotions reaching out to you…” Bulma interrupted, realization freezing her blood in her veins. “Like the other person is just right beside you?”

She had just been thinking about how in sync she had been with Vegeta, how she felt his aura within her. She had chalked it up to her yearning for him, her sadness at how her life had gone so wrong… And yet, Goku’s words shed a pale light on her doubts. It made so much sense, and now, she both hoped and dreaded the possibility that maybe…

What if, in their liaisons, they had unwittingly performed this “claiming”?

She stared out the window, her heart pounding painfully as she stilled, testing her theory out by trying to locate Vegeta. She had been half-hoping that it would be as if she would have an invisible beacon of light that pointed him out, but it apparently didn’t work that way.

However, what she did feel, was a strange, answering pulse, a tug on her heartstrings, a gentle light that reached for her loneliness, wrapping it in its warm caress.

She gasped, her hands flying up to her chest, eyes wide as that single moment gave her the clarity that she needed.

“Exactly!” Goku said in answer to her question, before he reached over to hold Bulma’s arms, nudging her until she met his eyes again. “Have you felt that with Vegeta?”

She stared at him, feeling her eyes sting as her tears gathered behind her lids, as she felt her chest swell in the warmth that seemed to grow hotter… coming closer. She realized then that this was Vegeta, and he was on his way, moving towards her as he felt her aura call out to him.

“Yes,” she finally whispered. “Yes. I _have_ … I do.”

“You need to talk to him again, Bulma,” he said, voice urgent, happy _._ “You need to get out of this barricaded room and face him. Bulma, please-”

“I can’t,” she mumbled, her eyes pleading as she felt her tears begin to flow, her desperation to maintain her obligation to her people, to be their unsullied _princess,_ warring with her need to follow her heart to Vegeta. “I have a duty to uphold…”

“Listen to me,” Goku said, shaking her gently. “You can’t do this to yourself. Maybe… maybe this is the time to really take a stand. Did being with Vegeta make you happy?”

She sobbed, nodding as she tasted salt on her lips, as she felt herself shake as she cried in desperation. “Yes. So much. He… he gave me _life_ , Goku.”

“Then you need to face him again,” he said. “Don’t make my mistake. I… I compromised my family for my duty. Maybe, if we both fought back, we could both be with the people who make us happy.”

“But will he want me? Will he still want me?” she asked. “I am… I am a wreck. Can _I_ make him happy?”

“I don’t think he ever stopped wanting you, Bulma.”

She was about to speak again, when she felt the pulsing in her chest rise in intensity, becoming insistent, and she could sense the ever strengthening pulse within her, imploring to be heard. She didn’t need to look out the window, to know that Vegeta was there once again, waiting anxiously a few feet away, hoping that she would open up to let him in…

Bulma stood up, wiping her face with her sleeves, before moving towards the door to disable the shield.

She looked back at Goku, who nodded at her, before he got up and began to move to leave. However, before he reached for the lock, he looked intensely at her again.

“Do you think… do you think we can be happy Bulma?” he asked softly. “Do you think we can find a way…”

“I have no objections, should you wish to go back to your true wife, Goku,” she answered.

“Maybe, this is our chance to fight for what we want,” he mused.

She nodded, smiling lightly at him. “Do you suppose that with this war, we could stage our own rebellion against our repressed lives?”

He shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

With that, he opened the door and walked through, shutting it behind him and leaving her alone in the room. Bulma took a deep breath, before she slowly, nervously approached the window. She took another, deeper and longer breath before she unlatched it, then, with a bit of effort, she pushed the heavy glass until the cold night air swept through her, making her hair swirl around her in a messy wave of blue.

The moon hung high up on the sky, bright and beautiful, but her eyes locked only on the lone form that floated proudly before her…

Vegeta was power and grace, his body screaming his physical strength… Yet his eyes showed her his weakness, their darkness speaking of the lonely desperation that she felt all too keenly, his lips trembling lightly in the naked need that they both felt for each other.

Bulma gasped in a breath as he began to float closer, until she could feel him, warm and gloriously within her reach. She found that she couldn’t speak, only able to raise a hand, palm up, as she waited with baited breath for him to move.

Slowly, he reached out, until he closed his large, warm palm over her small hand. His touch calmed her while her love for him flowed out of her, seeping into her fingers, flowing into the earnest touch of his skin.

He didn’t smile… didn’t speak. However, his hold on her tightened, and he moved to enter the room, stepping surely onto the sill as she stepped back to let him in.

His warmth overwhelmed her, and she felt her eyes burn as she felt them fill with tears again. She reached up, placing a hand on the center of his chest, not knowing how to start… knowing only, that her heart was singing at having him close to her once again.

Gods… how she needed him to hold her again…

As if hearing her wish, he moved suddenly, engulfing her smaller body with his, his arms wrapping possessively around her back as he buried his face in her hair, taking deep inhales of her scent.

She felt him lean down to kiss the top of her head, where he simply pressed his lips there for several moments, his breaths washing over her and lightly ruffling her hair.

When he finally pulled away, he held her close as he looked intensely into her eyes, his dark orbs narrowed in doubt, his mouth twisted into a hesitant frown.

She lifted a hand to hold the side of his face, gently caressing his jaw. Her lips were trembling, but she felt the corners of her mouth lift up until she was smiling brightly at him, her eyes wide in wonder as she watched his own mouth form a hesitant grin.

Her lips hesitantly moved around her breaths, until her soft voice finally crawled out, calling out the one name that she knew had indelibly carved itself into her heart…

“Vegeta…”

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	8. Claimed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the darkness of what had been a night of painful revelations, Bulma finally sees a spot of glorious light. 
> 
> Day 7: Rimming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> So, I know this chapter took a while, but it is finally here! I hope you all like it, and feedback will be very much appreciated!  
> Thanks to my beautiful girlfraaands, Blacksheep115 and Bitchytimemachine, for being the most patient betas ever! This chapter would not make a lick of sense if it weren't for them, lol!  
> Lots of fluff, angst and smut, ahead!

The soft click of the window being locked was the only sound in the room.

Bulma watched Vegeta’s back as it rose and fell with his breaths. He stood facing the large windows, his hand still on the latch. His face was reflected on the glass, but shadows from the dark night beyond concealed his eyes, hiding the haunted darkness that she had seen there as she finally allowed him to see her after so long.

It was perhaps, the first time that Bulma had felt so lost in his presence. Their relationship had always been shrouded in uncertainty, filled with secrets and lies; Yet, Vegeta had been Bulma’s rock, her source of gravity in a world that had left her to float aimlessly into the vastness of doubt and self-recrimination.

She wanted to speak, but the words stalled on her tongue, clogged her throat, refusing to leave the safety of her solitary silence. She took a step towards him, a hand lifting as if to touch him, but she froze when he turned his head slightly, pinning her in place with his stare.

In a glance, she saw his pain… saw the agony that she knew was most probably clear in her own blue eyes. The lines on his face reflected the distress that the past days of her rejection had given him, and she held back tears of guilt as she saw how empty he looked… his sorrow, all because she had not given him the chance to explain.

He cleared his throat, and she startled; she watched as he turned to her, his face a somber mask as he quickly raked his eyes up her whole body in clear assessment. He frowned, advancing towards her, a hand reaching down to wrap around her wrist.

“You have lost weight,” Vegeta observed, his voice clipped, irritated. “Have you not been eating?”

Bulma laughed, shaking her head in answer. “No. I haven’t really had much of an appetite.”

He frowned, moving so both of his hands now grasped each of her upper arms. He squeezed her gently, and his frown deepened, apparently unsatisfied with what he found in her thin arms.

“You must eat,” he said. “It has only been a few days since I last saw you, but I can see that you have already gotten too thin. Your nourishment must be your priority. You cannot go around starving yourself just because you are melancholy.”

“And you?” she asked, raising a brow as she regarded the dark lines beneath his eyes, the hollowness that she spied on his cheeks. “You’re not exactly _glowing_ , yourself.”

“Tch,” he dismissed with a wave. “I am a warrior. I am physically stronger than you and I have been immersed in training.”

“Oh please,” she answered. “As if I couldn’t sense you pouting all the way from the other side of Capsura.”

“I was not _pouting,_ I was _meditating,”_ he corrected, letting go of her to cross his arms before his chest. “And I was meditating because _someone_ here refused to speak to me and I was inches away from going insane.”

“Well, that would be because _someone_ here,” she hissed back, narrowing her eyes at him, “kept so many secrets from me!”

“I know I was wrong, but how could I have breached such a topic?” he growled, rolling his eyes. “ _Bulma, your father knows we have been fucking and now he wants me to impregnate you with an illegitimate heir._ What a wonderful conversation that could have been.”

“It is better than me hearing it through a door!” Bulma shrilled.

“Why were you sneaking around outside my chambers with your ki cloaked, in the first place?!”

“I wanted to surprise you!” she yelled indignantly.

“Well we _both_ got surprised, didn’t we?”

They stood silently glaring at each other for a few moments, before Bulma sighed, slumping in defeat.

“Look,” Bulma said. “We could argue about past mistakes, _or,_ we could talk about the present like the _very mature adults_ that we are.”

He smirked suddenly. “I cannot see why we cannot just keep bickering. I rather enjoy this.”

“Masochistic alien,” she muttered.

“That I am,” he said with a wry smirk. “After all, out of all the women in the entire galaxy, I chose to fall in love with _you.”_

Bulma opened her mouth to shriek at him again, until the actual words that he had uttered suddenly registered in her mind, making her jaw fall slack in shock. She stared, dumbfounded, as he casually raised a brow, tapping a finger against his arm as he quietly waited for her to gather her wits and respond.

But her mind had blanked out, caught completely off guard by his sudden confession, and she gaped like a fish pulled out of the sea. Her heart pounded in her ears, she was utterly flabbergasted and hardly dared to believe him.

Out of all the scenarios that had run through her head about how this conversation could possibly go… this was definitely _not_ one of those.

“V-Vegeta,” she finally managed to stutter, eyes wide as she felt her blood flowing into her cheeks, her hands trembling at her sides. “Did you… did you mean that?”

He huffed, frowning. “What do you think?”

She stared at him, her vision blurring as tears began to creep into the edges of her eyes. “You… you really love me?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, before releasing a small, barely audible sigh. He uncrossed his arms, reaching for her again, and Bulma fell into his hold as her tears began to flow down her cheeks. Vegeta pulled her close, pressing her to his chest.

It seemed as if all of the pain and anger that she had felt just melted away as she cried helplessly into the thin material of his blue shirt, greedily inhaling the scent of his skin while her mind jubilated at the gravity of his words.

Vegeta _loves_ her.

She closed her eyes, fingers grasping desperately at his clothing as she tried to ground herself, to settle her mind for the difficult discussion that she knew would follow. She could feel his hands in her hair, soothing her as she tried to compose herself, and when her tears finally subsided, she looked up, a brilliant smile pulling at her lips.

“Vegeta,” she whispered, voice hoarse from crying. “I… I love you too. I love you, so much.”

He smiled, arrogant and self-assured, but she did not miss the profound happiness and relief that shone through his eyes before he spoke, “I know.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, reaching a hand up to hold his face, her fingers cupping his jaw, delighting in the warmth of his skin. “I’m so sorry for everything. I didn’t listen… I turned you away. And yet, you always keep coming back to me…”

He held her tighter, pushing her hair back from her face so he could look into her eyes. “I always sought you out,” he began, “because I knew from the start, that you were the one for me.”

“I had always been the problem,” she murmured. “I was the one with the hang-ups.”

“Perhaps,” he said, even as he shook his head. His dark orbs bore heavily into her, seeking her spirit as he bared his soul, and Bulma drowned willingly within the depths of his eyes as she hung on to his every breath, his every word.

 “When I first saw you,” he recounted, “I tried to stay away, because you were married to Kakarot. But when I found out that he had not claimed you, I knew there was a chance. I could have… I could have tried harder…”

She laughed bitterly. “Tried harder? What could we have done?”

“I still do not know,” he admitted. “But I know that if I had been thinking more clearly all this time, things could have gone better than they did. I could have saved you from all this misery-”

“There was not much you could have done,” she said. “My circumstances are complicated.”

“Even still,” he said. “All this time… I had felt guilty, knowing that you saw our being together as a sin… as something humiliating. I did not want you to see _us_ in such a way.”

“Isn’t it a sin, though?” she asked, pulling back slightly to look seriously at him. “I am married to another man. We are having an affair-”

“Not to me,” he asserted, his hands tightening around her. “You were unclaimed. And to me, this renders your marriage null. To me, you have always been pure… Have always been no one else’s, but _mine.”_

She pulled away from him then, before reaching for his arm, taking him along with her to sit on her bed. He laid his hands on the mattress as she sat facing him, her mind running over his words as a slight frown of confusion twisted her lips.

“Do you mean to say,” she asked, “that you have never once felt like what we were doing was wrong?”

He shook his head. “No. I could even say that I found it an injustice to _me._ ”

“What do you mean?”

“I am a Saiyan, and as such, I find your documented marriage to Kakarot as inconsequential. Especially because you had never consummated,” he explained. “That I was being denied the chance to have you with me… it was… difficult.”

She began to interject, but he held up a hand, signaling that he was not done.

He spoke again. “I tried not to complain, because I knew that you are _not_ a Saiyan. And those documents mean more to you than the claiming that I had initiated. I rather hated myself for putting you through something that I knew was immoral in your eyes. But I also could not keep myself from trying to take you as mine.”

“So… to you…”

“To me, you were _my_ wife,” he said plainly. “ _My_ wife, who was sleeping in a chamber shared with a man who was not me. My _mate_ , who I had to avoid in public because a flimsy sheet of paper states that you are supposed to belong to another.”

Bulma’s eyes widened at his admission, finally beginning to understand what their relationship had looked liked from Vegeta’s point of view.  

“ _My mate_ ,” he continued, his voice strangely choked, “whose body knew she was mine, but who felt dirty whenever I touched her-”

“That’s not true,” she interrupted. “I… will admit that I had always felt that what we engaged in was wrong… but your touches didn’t make me feel _dirty_.”

She reached forward then, clasping the back of his hand as she begged him to understand the thoughts that she wasn’t even sure she could articulate. “Your touches never made me feel dirty. You… you made me feel _alive._ ”

She bit her lip against the feelings that were bubbling in her chest at the mere thought of his hands on her cheeks, his soft kisses on her lips. She realized then that she had always cherished his every caress, never felt guilty for them in spite of her circumstances… “And I think that a large part of me knew that I…”

She cut herself off as a certain realization that she had long tried to suppress bubbled forth, and, with a smile, she asked, “I was always meant for you, wasn’t I?”

His eyes were soft, swimming in emotion as he gazed into her eyes. “You were. You _are.”_

She smiled, reaching for him again, brushing her thumb across his lips. Vegeta closed his eyes, focusing on her touch, before he smiled slowly back at her, holding her hand against his cheek.

“Your hands are meant to hold only me,” he whispered, placing a kiss on the center of her palm. He then reached up, pulling her close, letting his lips hover a breath away from hers, not touching… but enough so she could feel his warmth on her skin.

He appeared to pause, hesitating as his eyes searched hers…

With her heart bursting with her love for Vegeta, Bulma leaned up, pressing her lips to his… knowing that his were the only lips that she was ever meant to kiss.

He responded quickly, moving his mouth against hers, taking all she had to offer as he gratefully gave all of himself into the contact. Now, Bulma felt free, knowing that she was loved, secure in her own adoration for him…

She wanted to give him her everything.

She poured her soul into their kiss, moaning softly as the feel of him against her filled her with a beautiful fire that she had missed so much, a welcoming heat that made her know for sure that Vegeta was her _home._

She could feel his love within her, lighting up her heart and breathing life into her slumbering dreams. His tongue searched her mouth and she surrendered, tangling her fingers into the thick strands of his hair while he clutched her possessively. He pulled her up until she sat on his lap and splayed across his body, her soft curves molding perfectly to his every hard angle.

Bulma felt herself going breathless, but she never wanted to stop kissing him… She shuddered against him as he further deepened their touches, holding her body with his large hands. He was firm, almost possessive, and she relished in every second that his hands were on her, his every movement whispering how much he _needed_ her.

All too soon, he pulled away, peppering her cheeks with tiny kisses as she gasped needily against him. She turned her face into his every caress, desperately seeking more. She held on, her fingers tight against him as she curled onto his lap, while he placed a hand upon her back, subtly keeping her with him as she melted into his touch.

“Vegeta,” she finally whispered, laying her right hand on his chest, where his heart pounded madly beneath her fingers. She looked up at him, wanting to watch his face as she spoke, “I feel you in my heart. Are you as much mine, as I am yours?”

“Probably even more,” he answered, laying a kiss onto the top of her head. “I initiated my claim, long ago.”

“Is that why it was always so easy for you to find me? To know when I am hurt?” she asked, remembering how he had always been so quick to respond to her distress, could smell her blood after she injured herself in her lab… knew precisely the moment when her ki disappeared when she cloaked it. “Goku told me something about the Saiyans and your claiming.”

“I claimed you on that night when I found you in your room, waiting for Kakarot in those flimsy garments,” he admitted. “I was seething in jealousy, murderous at the very thought of his hands on you… That was when I knew that I truly wanted you for myself.”

“That was… that was only our second time…”

“I told you before; I have wanted you since I first laid eyes on you. The only thing that stopped me from pursuing you right then and there was Kakarot telling me that you were his wife. I cannot take someone else’s mate, no matter how much I would have wanted to.”

“That explains so much,” she mused, “But how do _I_ feel you? I never knew about the claiming…”

“You may not have known, but your heart wanted me, too,” he said. “I felt it… the moment when you claimed me. It was on that last time that we laid together in my chambers.”

“How?” Bulma asked. “I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary.”

“Yes you did. A claim does not truly require anything extravagant. It could be a bite… a scratch. What matters during a claim is how you surrender yourself to each other,” Vegeta explained. “On that night, you bit me… As I had done, when I claimed you.”

“I don’t even remember,” she admitted. “How did I claim you without knowing that I did it?”

“When I placed my claim, I pledged myself to you. It was akin to me asking you to be mine. When you claimed me, your aura filled me with your approval… I felt _you_ ,” he said. “Your aura had accepted me as yours, and when you bit me, you _connected_ us, and the claim was done. It was my confirmation that what I felt for you was indeed returned, and that you finally _knew_ that you wanted me as well _._ ”

Bulma’s eyes widened as she realized that _that_ particular encounter had been after she had acknowledged to herself that she loved him. She understood then, that the claim happened when both people involved in the relationship finally came to terms with their own hearts and embraced each other. It was a profound way for both to truly know each other’s feelings, and she needed to clarify, “You knew from then, how I felt about you?”

She watched as Vegeta’s eyes suddenly took on a hooded, wounded glaze, and she gasped, feeling the pain in him as his hands held her tighter. He nodded, but his next words were full of grim disappointment.  

“Yes. And that was also the night that we promised would be our last,” he said. “You bit me, and I nearly lost control when I felt your acceptance flow through me. I should have been happy… But your claim could not have come at a worse time. It was _agonizing_ , Bulma.”

He swallowed hard, and Bulma felt her heart go out to him as the anguish peeked through his shaky voice. “I was losing my claimed mate after finally gaining her acceptance. I was being made to part with you right as I finally knew that you wanted me.” He shook his head, an ironic, dour smile on his lips. “All day, I was not able to think clearly. That was probably why I did not even sense your approach, because truth be told, I was in mourning.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, caressing his cheeks as painful chagrin enveloped her. “I had no idea, the pain I was putting you through.”

“I had never blamed you,” he said. “Because I knew that it was a difficult situation for you.”

“I’ve missed you,” she admitted. “The whole time I was here… I could feel you calling out to me, even from a distance.”

“That was the claim,” he said. “Think back. You could sense me more acutely after the last time we were together, correct?”

She shook her head. “I’ve felt you even shortly before that. I think… I think it began after I first admitted to myself that I had fallen for you. And it became stronger after I… _claimed_ you, as you say.”

“Because we are bound together now,” he said. “It is part of a Saiyan’s instincts, so I understood what was happening, but you did not.”

 “What will we do now?” she asked. “I can’t be without you… how can I stay with you?”

“We need to get through this war, first,” he answered. His hands were strong, determined, as he held her by the arms, making her focus solely on him. “After this war, I will find a way to keep you with me. I swear it.”

She smiled, tightening her hold on him as she found a fierce determination within her to forge a new path. She would turn away from this life that had forced her into a forgotten corner, to face her true destiny: to be by Vegeta’s side.

With Vegeta, she could be all that she was ever meant to be.

Bulma tried to wrap herself around him as much as she could, yearning to reconnect with him. She could feel the need in her heart, the _want_ that flowed through her veins, and unable to help herself, she leaned up, taking his lips with hers once again.

He breathed deeply as their mouths danced in earnest, their tongues twining lovingly while their hands roamed desperately over the other. Bulma felt the longing in her chest, seeping into her very bones, and she groaned in anxious need as his touch made gooseflesh rise along her skin.

She needed to hold him once again. To lose herself in his touch, to let his love overcome her as she showed him her heart, as well.

“I want you, Bulma,” he whispered against her lips as he pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers as his harsh breaths washed over her.

“Vegeta…” she gasped kissing his lips for a fleeting second. She cupped his face in her hands, a small but happy smile on her lips, as she asked, “Stay with me tonight?”

He grinned back at her as he lifted her, and she giggled as he laid her onto the center of her bed. He hovered over her for a few moments, letting his eyes wander up and down her form, before he leaned back down to kiss her again.

His lips were urgent, moving over her own with an intensity that calmed her heart as he roused her senses. She felt a delicious shudder travel down her spine as she felt him begin to pull at her clothing, easily parting the robe-like dress that she had been wearing, letting the material fall to her sides as he bared her body to his touch.

His hands clutched her bare waist, his thumbs running soothing circles along her abdomen, stealthily crawling beneath her breasts. Her breaths hitched as he ghosted his fingers along the bottom of the fleshy orbs, and she arched towards him, needing his heat, selfishly craving all of his desire.

Vegeta sat up, devouring her with his stare as he quickly began to pull off his clothing. He was harried, eager to be one with her, and she followed his lead, pushing her sleeves off her arms before she hooked her thumbs over her panties, sliding them down her hips and kicking them off her legs.

They stared silently at each other’s nudity, and Bulma couldn't help but feel like she was looking at him for the very first time. Her eyes were wide in wonder as she watched him stalk silently until he laid over her. He was pure power, with a beautifully-sculpted chest and a painfully-defined abdomen, with thickly-muscled arms whose obscene strength contrasted with how gently they held her close to his body.

She gasped in need as he laid level with her, his lips meeting hers, their bodies melding perfectly with each other’s. The sheer delight of being held by him so tenderly pulled sobs of joy from her chest, and she closed her eyes, reaching to wrap her arms around him, feeling his smooth skin beneath her palms.

She felt his legs tangle with hers, felt him hot and hard against her lower stomach, and she squirmed against him, pressing herself to him, as if every inch of her that was not touched by his skin would be frozen in desolation. She needed his heat, craved every minute contact, and Bulma sighed, loosening her hold as he began to crawl downwards, leaving soft kisses along her neck and her chest.

His mouth teased her breasts, trailing soft licks and wet kisses around her puckered nipples. She moaned, her hands holding his head gently, playing with his wild hair while he used his hands and mouth, making her chest flush a dark pink as her blood rushed from the sensations. 

Vegeta held her by the waist, pressing her down against the bed as she began to writhe from his attentions. He teasingly flicked his tongue into her navel before leaving kisses along her lower stomach, making her keen softly when she felt his breaths wash hotly over her center.

His hands moved to cup her hips, snaking beneath her to hold her by her buttocks, squeezing hard enough to make her squeak in surprise. Bulma opened her eyes to look down at him, finding him smirking at her as he peered at her from between her spread legs. She could do nothing but moan as she watched his eyes narrow wickedly at her, before turning to her core.

“Vegeta,” she called, feeling herself flush as he moved closer, his breaths blowing onto her. She felt the tip of his nose nudge her, heard him inhale against her, and she cried out in pure euphoria when she finally felt his lips touch her.

“Ah! Veget- ah!” she cried, eyes slamming shut as she threw her head back against her pillows. She felt his tongue swipe out, licking around the nub of her desire before his lips closed over her once more. He kissed her deeply, drawing out her lust, making her desire flow out of her body and into his eager mouth.

Bulma groaned as he growled into her, the vibrations of his voice reverberating within her, shattering her control as she arched madly into his touch. She felt his fingers dig into her skin as he gripped her rump, as he licked hungrily at her wetness and forcibly held her down with his weight on her legs.

A sudden, ticklish sensation flitted over her bottom, making Bulma’s eyes pop wide open. She looked back down to see Vegeta snaking a hand down, and she choked in stunned pleasure when she felt unfamiliar pressure pressing against her _other_ orifice.

She felt his finger leisurely circle her anus, and Bulma lurched up, embarrassed and panicked. Her first impulse was to ask him to stop, but his actions aroused a surprisingly delectable sensation that made her hairs stand on end. Vegeta simply grunted, undisturbed, unabashedly tasting her while his fingers strayed on uncharted territories.

“Oh! Vegeta! P-please!” she sobbed, tangling her fingers in his hair, pulling none too gently as the pleasure climbed too high, as it all became too much…

A small nip, right on the core of her desire, made the spiraling pressure within her burst… sending white-hot tendrils of electricity running through her spine, ending where her limp fingers helplessly tried to clasp upon Vegeta’s thick shoulders.

She heard him chuckle darkly, before he moved, bracing himself as his hands grasped her behind the knees, spreading her legs wide for him. She was panting, breaths stuttering out of her throat, when she felt his hips move to rub himself up and down her core.

Bulma peered down, spying his hardness as he glided to and fro, spreading her wetness along his length. He was breathing hard, eyes trained on her, and through the haze of her unbelievable release, she stared back at him, willing him to come into her… to make them one, in a way that she had thought they never would be, again.

It seemed he heard her silent plea, as Vegeta leaned down, bracing himself on his hands on either side of her torso, and began to enter her.

He slid in slowly, carefully, and Bulma mewled in shameless longing as she felt him join with her. Vegeta leaned closer as he pressed deeper, until his mouth laved at her chest while his hips nestled snuggly against hers, his body delectably glorious inside her.  

“Bulma,” he whispered against her ear, before his lips covered hers. She moaned into his mouth as he kissed her, let her taste her essence on his tongue. She wheezed when he suddenly jolted, thrusting himself deeply within her.

“Vegeta,” she moaned when he began to move, pulling out with excruciatingly slowness, then rapidly plunging back in.

He was absolutely beautiful in his pleasure. Vegeta’s powerful arms caged her in, and she could see nothing but _him_ … She selfishly indulged in the spectacular view he presented as he moved deliciously inside her.

His eyes were narrowed, intensely gazing into her eyes as his jaw hung open from his heavy breaths. His sweat beaded along his brow, slowly trailing down his pectorals, and Bulma reached a hand up to caress the skin of his heaving chest.

Soon, she was mindless with pleasure, her body rising to meet his every movement, her fingers scratching at his wide back in agonized euphoria. Her soul was bursting from his love, preening at his every whispered endearment, and Bulma couldn’t help the wails that he wrung from her lips as he loved her with his heart and body.

“I love you… I love you so much,” she murmured, to which he responded with a moan and the hastened pumping of his hips. He felt like pure heaven in her hands; his increasingly stunted gasps of her name was music to her ears.

A sudden, unexpected twist within her made her cry out, as he nudged something inside her that made colors flash vividly behind her closed lids. Vegeta grunted, surging forward, touching that spot again, and Bulma screamed, hanging on for life as the most unbelievable rhapsody seized her, freezing her limbs as her body focused on the magic that he was spinning within her.

“I’m… almost... Yes! Oh, Vegeta, _yes_!” she cried, pulling at his hair as the sensations built up…

Her vision went white as the coil of her desire unfurled, wrapping herself tightly around Vegeta as she convulsed in the most mind-blowing release that she had ever experienced. Bulma groaned, long and low, as she continued to shake, as she felt Vegeta move faster within her until he finally froze, his limbs locking around her form as he buried his face in hair, moaning her name into her ear.

She held him while he lost himself within her, whispering her love against his throat while his chest heaved with his exertions. When his gasping breaths finally evened out, Vegeta rolled his weight off her to lie down beside her. He held her in his arms, tenderly stroking her back as he longingly whispered her name.

Bulma pretended not to notice the wet droplet of his single tear as it fell upon her; she simply smiled softly, cupping his precious face in her hand as they slowly fell into slumber.

For possibly the very first time, Bulma slept fitfully, her heart overflowing with happiness, content in the arms of the man she loved...

They both were, finally, right where they belonged.

 8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


End file.
